What if
by Riah P
Summary: Marik and Bakura are on a quest to find a mysterious item, which may grand them great wishes. But that probably won't happen. - YGO, Thiefshipping, probably abridged version
1. What if

**What if...**

* * *

Prologue

* * *

The three thousand year old burden in Bakura's heart disappeared when Marik grabbed his shoulders and leaned closer to him. He forgot that he was standing ankle-high in mud and that the torch he was holding had almost burnt to its end, the flame reaching his bare skin .

"Bakura," whispered Marik, his eyes pinning Bakura to the ground, sucking Bakura's resistance out of his soul.

"Marik," murmured Bakura back, feeling his breath pace quicken in pace. A crackling heat began to spread in his chest as he watched the shine on Marik's face dance simultaneously with the flames of the fire.

The ancient spirit had fallen for this boy a long time ago, yet he had never expressed his feelings for him. He was quite aware that the other had noticed them as well. Why else would he play those games with him? Or was he serious? Could it be possible that Marik had finally overcome his fears and wanted Bakura ?

The tingling feeling of pain and lust crawled deeper and deeper into Bakura's gut as Marik parted his lips, clearing his throat before he spoke, "I think we're lost."

"What?" Bakura yelled, dropping the torch. It made a loud smacking sound as it sank into the mud. The fire extinguished, leaving them gasping at the sudden lack of light. Instinctively, Marik grabbed at Bakura's arm, pulling him closer. Bakura let him, knowing that Marik was experiencing nyktophobia – the fear of darkness. Marik wasn't speaking but Bakura could hear his breathing quicken, and thought he could hear his heart pound faster too . Although Marik's grip was tightening, he seemed to be suddenly distant.

The smell of burned wood irritated Bakura's nose, and he growled at his soggy sneakers, lugging Marik and himself out of the brownish ooze. "Come on," he sighed, "We have to move on. Sooner or later we'll find the exit." Those were the most comforting words Bakura could think of at the moment.

Marik's weight tilted Bakura to the side . He snarled and snorted loudly, showing him how much he disliked the burden that had decided to cling to his arm. Tumbling around in the complete darkness of a rotten cave with Marik was tiresome, especially if he wasn't talking. Bakura hated it when Marik was babbling but he hated it even more so when Marik wasn't at all. Something was wrong when Marik was quiet.

Bakura felt the need to interrupt the silence. "I don't know why I agreed to come with you. The existence of an eighth Millennium Item is impossible. I would have heard of it." There was a distant glimmer of light in the front, too dark to actually call it a light but also too bright to ignore it. Bakura moved as fast as he could towards it. He felt Marik's panic growing with every minute. His nails dug into Bakura's arm, his breathing exaggerated .

"Don't stop talking."

Bakura patted Marik's hand. "You're hurting me," he whispered . When Marik relaxed his grip Bakura picked up his rambling. "Neither the Pharaoh nor his minions have ever mentioned a bloody Millennium _Anklet_! Ridiculous." Bakura heaved a groan when he stepped into something squashy. He wiped his shoe at a rocky outcropping before continuing to walk. "Also your information source is pretty questionable if you ask me. A book that contains such information wouldn't be in a public library but hidden away somewhere! It must be bollocks!"

Marik breathed out and opened his eyes. He lifted his head as he saw the light source Bakura was aiming them at. "Ah."

"There must be another entrance. Or at least some opening," Bakura muttered. "I have some matches left."

Marik nodded eagerly. His steps quickened. "Talk louder."

"And why on earth was that mysterious eighth item not important enough to be included in the Millennium Stone?" Bakura grumbled. "Even if it exists, its power cannot be of any use if none of the Pharaoh's priests ever talked about it!" They hurried under the light that emerged from a tiny gap between the cave's boulders, spreading out in a sharp angle. The light formed a circular spot of glow on the rocky ground. It was full moon. "How was it even made without the Millennium Stone? The whole story makes no sense." Bakura shook his head as he and Marik parted. Marik looked up and his pupils dilated in the thin light .

"I know it makes no sense," Marik mumbled, knowing full-well that Bakura may well be right. He frowned and looked around, then gripped a rock and pushed a foot against the cave's side, heaving himself up. "But," he moaned, struggling , "But the book explained that the anklet was made two hundred years after the other Millennium Items." He gripped the wall , his feet searching for support. "It was made by some descendent of High Priest Seth ."

"Marik, what are you doing?" Bakura caught at Marik when he slipped off the rock. "The hole is too tiny to get through." He pushed Marik's butt helpfully. The Millennium Rod, tucked into Marik's belt, deflected a ray into Bakura's eyes, and he squinted at the light .

"Hey! Don't touch me there!" Marik yelled as Bakura smirked. It had been too tempting. Marik's ass wrapped in his dark jeans looked gorgeous from below, especially with the light from above. "I don't want to climb through, I just want to catch some fresh air."

Finally reaching the gap, Marik breathed deeply in and out. A gentle airflow caressed his face, the scent of spring trees fresh on the breeze. As the moon rested between the greyish clouds, the world seemed silent and peaceful.

Marik wiped the dirt off his hands and looked at Bakura. "Let me down," the Egyptian said.

Bakura offered his hand which Marik grabbed. He felt safe with Bakura close to him. He slid through Bakura's arm and when Marik was standing on the ground once more, Bakura's arm had settled about Marik's waist, their other hands locked tightly. Looking each other in the eyes as the light fell between them; partly on Marik's face and partly on Bakura's. They were inches apart, almost seemingly about to dance.

"Shall I light a match?" Bakura whispered, not averting his gaze on Marik nor letting go of him. Marik's blond hair glinted in the moon's light. His cheeks flushed subtly and his eyes sparkled.

"Yes, please." Marik replied. He was thankful that Bakura never laughed at his fears or asked for further information about it. He was the only one who was allowed to see him shiver and hear him whimper at nights. The only one who was allowed to wake him up from his nightmares. The only one who was allowed to stroke his head and stay with him until he fell asleep again.

"And why do you think the anklet is here?" Bakura let go of Marik, reaching for the matchbox. Marik watched his movements and smirked when the hissing flame of the match came to life.

"There was a map in the book showing the exact location." He smiled. "It's not far. Come on, Fluffy!" He strolled deeper into the cave, pouting when he looked back to see Bakura hadn't followed him immediately.

"I remember you saying we were lost." Bakura protected the match light with the palm of his hand and stepped cautiously towards Marik. The cave's sides got their color back, turning a brownish hue. Their shadows flickered restless, barely resembling their bodies.

"No, I know exactly where we are! That hole there was the missing indicator!" Marik pointed towards the gap above Bakura's head.

"Mm, alright." Bakura was still unsure about their mission, but walked closely beside Marik, listening to him humming one of the pop songs that were playing on the radio these days. The spirit was sure that there was no eighth Millennium Item, nevertheless he was enjoying the little trip with his crime partner. Marik was igniting sparks in Bakura's insides. He felt younger with Marik at his side. So much younger.

The match flickered out without warning, and Marik froze. His eyes searched for Bakura's face but the darkness was everywhere. The cave's walls seemed to close in. Marik thought he would suffocate. Bakura hastened to light up the next match. The saving flame mirrored in Marik's bright eyes. Bakura bestowed something rare on Marik; one of his smiles. It didn't seem to help.

Marik stared at the light in Bakura's hands. "How many matches are left?" He asked, trying to hide the trembling in his voice by speaking up.

"About twelve."

Marik nodded, "We should hurry up."

"Hey." Bakura stopped Marik from running off. "You should take that match and when it's almost burned out I'll light up the next one. Then there won't be an interruption between them."

"Good idea." Marik smiled as Bakura passed him the match carefully, but a sudden flow of wind passed by, blowing it out. Marik squeaked. The match fell onto the ground and Marik whimpered, covering his mouth with his hands and shutting his eyes. The walls were definitely closing in. The darkness grabbed his throat, making him choke.

Bakura lit up the next match. Marik was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in a fast pace. He opened his eyes slowly and gawked into space with big pupils, pushing his eyebrows together. Stiff hands grabbed Bakura's shirt and pulled him close until Marik's forehead and Bakura's met. "...Mm!" Marik snorted, Bakura could feel his warm breath on his face. Marik held Bakura's shirt firmly and squeezed his eyes shut. "Ughm... Mmm..."

Marik had had some sort of panic attack, Bakura figured, letting him grab at his shirt. Bakura focused on watching out for the match, not wanting to catch their hair on fire. It burned out soon, the fire letting out its last breath, and filling the air with the smell of its death. Bakura tossed it away.

"Uhh..." Marik's breath tickled at Bakura's lips alluringly; his distressed moans made him worry though.

Gently, as not to startle Marik, Bakura undid Marik's fingers, loosening them from his shirt. He could feel the slight shudder that rushed through Marik's tense body. When Bakura let go off Marik's hands, they jumped back at his neck, grasping his shirt once more, and jolting Bakura. Their foreheads disconnected for a moment.

"Mmh..." Marik whined silently, his grip around Bakura's neck becoming tighter and the pressure against Bakura's forehead stronger.

Again, Bakura detached himself from Marik, but held his wrists this time and pulled him as he walked backwards, until they were standing under the opening again. As soon as Bakura released Marik's hands, they grabbed his neck and Bakura gulped. Marik's hands were as warm as his breath, brushing Bakura's chin slightly. "Hey, open your eyes," Bakura murmured, putting his hands reluctantly on Marik's shoulders. He hated to see Marik vulnerable; Bakura believed Marik believed Marik should always feel strong and proud, not frightened like this.

"No...!" Marik's voice broke at this small word. He grazed his head against Bakura's, keeping his eyes closed. In need for more comfort he leaned closer until their noses touched.

Bakura stiffened up at first, "Marik," His voice was flustered , "Open your eyes." Marik gave a quiet whimper and Bakura inched closer, brushing Marik's cheek when his lips formed words. "Look up, we're under the gap. We're safe."

Blinking and holding his breath, Marik left Bakura's touch and leaned his head back. He sighed in relief at the soft caress of wind on his face. Then he dropped his eyes to Bakura and stared at him in bewilderment. As if he had just been placed before Bakura, he pushed him away, scowling, "What are you doing!"

Hissing, Bakura stumbled back. "Right, _my_ fault," he muttered, clenching teeth.

Marik glared at him and Bakura glared right back. Bright eyes met dark eyes, embarrassment and anger met lust and confusion. Finally, Marik snorted looking away, and Bakura clenched his fists.

Bakura missed Marik's warmth, his smell and his little moans and he hated Marik for that. "Marik," he said. "Marik, you will wait under the light and I will go and look for the anklet, got it ?"

Slowly exhaling, Marik gave a nod . "And if you don't find it?" he asked. Before Bakura could reply, Marik opened his mouth and eyes widely and laughed. "Oi Bakura, we must be near! Look!" He pointed at Bakura's Millennium Ring. All five spikes were aiming towards the only passage the both thieves had not entered yet, the object glowing in the dim light.

Bakura stared at his Millennium Ring. Was it true after all? Did an eighth Millennium Item exist? Really? Marik's Millennium Rod was glowing as well. Bakura felt betrayed by his ring. How could he have not known about the eighth Millennium Item?

Chuckling, Marik grabbed Bakura's wrist, and pulled and pushed him towards the untaken passage, "Go, Fluffy Puff! Find me that Millennium Anklet! With it we shall rule the world! Hahaha!" Obviously, his partner in crime was in a good mood again, and Bakura rolled his eyes, moving further into the passage.

"Ohh Bakura! Find it! Find it! It must be there!" Marik trailed, grinning and leaping, a distinct bounce in his step. His eyes were bright with anticipation; he reminded Bakura of a child who could not wait for the sweets its parents had bought.

The ring was inpatient too - it elevated away from Bakura's chest, twitching its spikes. The cord pulled at Bakura's neck. The Millennium Items wanted to meet, they belonged together after all. Restless and indestructible was the force between them. Thousands of years old, yet powerful as though forged yesterday.

The spirit hustled towards the darkness, following the call. He could feel it in his chest.

_Come closer, come closer! ~_

Unmistakable, that was a Millennium Item. But how could it be? All the Millennium Items were buried under a thick layer of sand and stone - except for Bakura's ring and Marik's rod, which the both thieves had dug out in a moonlit night like this. It had to be true after all. The eighth Millennium Item did exist.

_Come...! ~_

"Don't worry, I'm bloody coming." Bakura had to watch his step, the ground was becoming more uneven. He put one hand on the wall for support. The walls were closing in, this time for real. The passage narrowed. There, a last turn to the right and...!

Nothing.

Bakura stood before a blind alley.

"How's it going? Update me, Bakura!" Marik yelled from behind.

"Um." Bakura frowned. He watched his ring while moving his body back and forth, then side to side. The spikes pointed stubbornly towards a spot on the wall, although nothing but boulders and soil could be seen. Touching the cold wall didn't help, the rocks were solid; nothing moved. Murmuring curses did not help either. "Dammit!" Bakura hit the wall with his fist.

"Bakura!"

"Wait a second, Marik." Bakura leaned closer to the wall, letting his ring touch the wall with a single spike. Here. But there was still nothing. Yet there had to be something, why else would the Millennium Ring react so strongly? Bakura scratched the spot with his fingernails. Solid stone. No way could he demolish it.

"Bakura!"

"Fuck Marik, I am coming, wait a second!" Bakura spun around to glare at Marik. Marik seemed not to see him in the darkness though as he kept moving his head and squinting his eyes. Bakura sighed.  
The blond was the incarnate of impatience. Bakura knew what was about to happen. He would return to Marik and fill his eyes with disappointment. His pouting lips would form a statement of disbelief and then he would want to see it for himself. Hopefully this time the matches would work in their favor .

"Bakura!"

"I'm coming," Bakura muttered. He turned to the wall for a last time, snorting at his Millennium Ring whose spikes still wanted to meet the mysterious force behind the wall. "Shit." Bakura kicked the wall and turned away. He hated to lose to someone even if that someone was nothing more than stonewall. Maybe they could come back later with an air drill or something similar.

Bakura did not notice that his foot had broken loose a small rock, which in turn had kept a bigger one inside the wall. First, the smaller one rolled to his feet, then the bigger one followed and bumped against Bakura's sneaker. Bakura stopped walking and looked down.

More and more rocks moved, the wall began to crack audibly. Bakura was too slow, by the time he had turned to face the wall he was already buried under a pile of rocks, mud and dirt.

"Bakura?" 

* * *

Hearing the crash of stones and rocks put Marik on alert. What was going on? He could not see anything and did not dare to move too far from the light source. Was Bakura in danger?

"Bakura?"

The echo of the crash faded out. A gentle pour of small rock pieces followed and a dusty blow reached Marik's feet. Then nothing, save Marik's loud breathing.

"Bakura!"

The silence frightened Marik to death. What had happened? Was Bakura okay? Marik whimpered. What would he do without the other man? Normally Marik was courageous and vigorous, but in this cave? Facing his worst nightmare? He was dependent on his white-haired friend. Without Bakura he wouldn't make it out of the cave, he needed Bakura's light, his words, him .

One step away from the circle of light was bearable, two steps not so much. Marik jumped back under the gap and looked up, "Fuck!" he cursed, turning away from where he had heard the cave in. He grabbed the bangs of his hair. "Bakura!" he cried. "Bakura, what happened! Come back! Say something! Fuck! Fuck!" Outside, the clouds traveled through the dark blue night peacefully unaware of what was happening inside the cave.

"Bakura if this is some kind of joke it is not funny!" Marik gulped.

It was no use; he knew what he had to do.  
With a scream Marik turned around and dashed towards the darkness, letting it swallow him. The air felt thick and tense on his skin. Every step could be the last one; he could fall into the bottomless night and never return again. Darkness. Blackness everywhere.

But instead of missing the ground, Marik tripped on it. His shriek's echo surrounded him but his hand found something soft, something familiar .

"Bakura," Marik mumbled, "Bakura. Bakura. What happened, Bakura." He freed some hair from the rocks and pushed away dirt until he found skin, a nose, a pair of lips.

"Bakura." There was no answer. Marik pulled at the hair and shook the head but Bakura did not react.

Marik slid to Bakura's side and continued to dig him out, repeating his name like a mantra. Finally Bakura coughed and his body jerked to life . "Ah..."

"Bakura!" Marik wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him close. "Oh, Bakura," he sighed. "You're alive. Oh! Oh."

Bakura coughed and spat. "Marik." He shortly forgot what was going on and where he was.

"Bakura."

"Marik." Bakura's memory came back. The Millennium Anklet, the cave, the stonewall. "Ugh."  
He would have liked to embrace Marik as well, but he couldn't find the strength to do so. His skin hurt in so many spots that he could barely move. "Get me out," he moaned.

Marik nodded. "Yes." He squeezed his friend before releasing him, something he had never done before. While Marik was removing rocks and stones, Bakura moaned silently, spewing out dirt.

"Damn," he muttered. "Marik, this is your fault."

"What? How is that my fault?" Marik paused in his work to scowl at Bakura but he couldn't even tell whether the other had his eyes open or closed. "Why do you say that? I'm here in the dark with you, digging your clumsy ass out of the dirt and you dare to insult me!" He snorted and pouted. Why was Bakura so unfriendly? He should rather thank him!

"You brought us here," Bakura coughed. They were still surrounded by darkness and he wanted to distract Marik as long as possible from it. Without Marik, he would be trapped under the rocks forever and without Bakura, Marik would be trapped in the cave forever. Making Marik angry was an easy task for Bakura and it would keep him from getting afraid.

"You didn't have to follow me!" Marik was almost done, his anger had picked up the pace up in his hands. "You could have waited outside!" One of the rocks that Marik tossed, bumped back at him and he turned his head, startled. There seemed to be another wall behind the one that had collapsed. Marik reached out his hand and found this assumption to be true.

Bakura moved his legs and pulled them out of the rock pile. "Without me you would be too afraid to walk around here."

Marik hissed. "Without you, the torch would still be burning!" He tossed the last rocks to the side.

Bakura groaned. "Alright, whatever. Help me up." He raised one arm, searching for Marik. "Where are you?"

"Here." Marik grabbed his partner in crime and lifted him up, supporting him. Bakura could barely move and his body felt heavy, his muscles were stiff. "Dammit." He clenched his teeth, letting the sharp pain in his back pass by before he moved his legs. "What about the anklet," he asked, realizing that the obstacle between his ring and the alleged eighth Millennium Item was gone.

"We can still come back. Let's get you out of here, first," Marik said. Although he would have liked to try to demolish the next wall, Bakura's well-being was more important. Perhaps they would have to take him into a hospital.

"But maybe it's just right there!"

"The wall is still there you know. It was just the first layer of it that fell on you," Marik explained.

"Damn it." Bakura growled as they continued going. After two steps he frowned. Something was different. "Ah. Marik." He stopped walking and grabbed at his own shirt. "My ring is missing."

"It must be somewhere under the rocks," Marik mumbled . "Shall I get it? Can you stand?"

Bakura nodded, and then remembered that Marik couldn't see in this gloom. "Yes, please. I can stand." The dark spirit was used to pain and he would get better. It didn't feel like he had broken any bones, he just had a couple of bruises and they would heal fast as he was inhabiting the young, healthy body of a teenager. Still he leaned against the wall, listening to Marik tossing away rocks and stones again.

"Hm, I think I've got it," his blond partner muttered. His fingers had touched something cold and slick, something made of gold. He had to pull harder to get it out. "Nngh, frig!"

If there had been actual daylight in the cave, Bakura would have seen Marik's roll backwards and would have probably chuckled at that scene, but here in the dark all Bakura could make out was a loud thump. Marik stood up and held the prize up in the air, unintentional. The object wasn't as heavy as the Millennium Ring and Marik had used too much force to lift it up. "Huh."

"What is it?" Bakura stepped closer to Marik.

"This isn't your ring." 

* * *

**A/N: Cliffhanger! I know I'm mean. I hope you still liked it!  
Each next chapter will continue where this one has ended, creating alternative outcomes. Um, if you read on you will get it! xD**

**SUPER SPECIAL AWESOME THANKIES TO MY BETA READERS KATE AND ARIA**

**YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE**

**I LOVE YOU UWU**

**If you wonder about my other fic, well eh... I will continue writing, it will take time though e^e I am very sorry.**


	2. Marik couldn't lie? (1)

What if...

...Marik couldn't lie?

PART ONE

"What do you mean, it's not my ring? What is it then?" Bakura found Marik's arm and traced it down until his fingers clanged around the object, recognizing the cold metal immediately. "Is it...?!"

"Yes," Marik whispered hastily, drawing the item closer to himself.

"Give it to me." Bakura pulled, but Marik didn't let go. "Come on."

"Mh."

"Marik."

Although they were partners and would never trust anyone then each other the call of the Millennium Item was strong and summoned anger and jealousy in its masters. Since its creation it had waited patiently for its chance, its power only growing by every year that pass by, while its brothers had been rescued and worshiped, stolen and bargained, won in fights and lost in battles. It was the last one, the forgotten one, the unworthy, untrusted, pathetic joke of a Millennium Item but now its time had finally come!

Now it was its turn!

As the boys were fighting for the anklet, it began to emit a golden glow, which grew stronger and stronger until it surrounded the boys. The range of its light moved in size in a repetitive motion, as if it wanted to communicate with them. As if it wanted to say thank you.

_Thank you for saving me ~_

But Marik and Bakura did not pay attention to the glow. Both of them had thieves blood rushing through their veins, running hot as they stared each other into the eyes. Pulling, glaring, snarling and huffing - it was the foreplay to a fight.

"Let! Go!"

"No!"

Their collaboration had slowly turned from rivalry to friendship but occasional occurring mocking would show that both hadn't given up on egoism. Especially not when it came to such a rare thing like the eighth Millennium Item. However, one simple look into the eyes of the other recalled the trust they had build in their partner. They knew they wouldn't betray the other. They were just eager.

Marik took Bakura's hand and put the golden chain in his palm. "Here. Make a wish," he snarled.

Somewhat surprised that the blonde would let him go first Bakura snickered and held the golden item up, engulfing it with his eyes. Unmistakable, it was made of gold. But was it in fact the Eighth Millennium Item?  
As Marik told him, it had been made by one of Seth's descendents; it was hundred years younger than the other Millennium Items. It had not been made by the Millennium stone nor had had Bakura's kinsman die for it. Bakura felt no connection to it. But he could tell that there was great power hidden inside every single link. He shook his head. "You really believe in this crap?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Marik grabbed Bakura's arm and started walking, turning the other around in the process. "Why shouldn't I? My rod can control people's brains and your ring can..." He frowned. "What does your ring actually do?"

"Marik, speaking of my ring, it is still somewhere under the rocks!" Bakura protested as he was drawn away.

"Oh yeah, right..." Marik stretched out his words and faced the other. He hoped by staring at Bakura he would escape the duty to dig for the Millennium Ring.  
Some rare times when Bakura was weakened by alcohol or the situation, Marik could lure him into doing or not doing things by simply looking at him. It wasn't working often but often enough for Marik to try. Seeing the ancient spirit obey to his commands made Marik happy. He felt special then.

But not this time.

Bakura's eyelids dropped halfway. "This isn't going to work."

"Okay okay..." Marik turned around with a pout. He got on his knees facing the rock pile again. Now that he could actually see what his hands had been going through he didn't want to put them inside all that mud again. The khaki brown looked like it was full of bugs and bacteria and Marik jerked away.

"Marik," Bakura whispered, "please. I would get it myself but I can't move well."

"Fine," Marik responded, whispering as well. His partner was injured. It was no time for being childish. He sighed and began digging.

A while later the two were sitting in the green Pontiac they had stolen month ago for trips like this one.  
Returning to their car had only taken them a few minutes which affirmed Bakura's assumption that the cave wasn't as deep as it had been in Marik's imagination. The fear he had felt while searching for the anklet had stretched the minutes in the darkness. Marik pat the dirt off his clothes until he thought he was relatively clean, then he leaned back and drummed a beat on the steering wheel with his fingers. Although he loved to talk, Marik knew when he really needed to shut up. So he didn't ask if Bakura was alright and if he would drive. His partner would tell him soon enough.

Bakura was sitting on the seat next to him, breathing heavily. "Marik. I can't drive. You have to." The whitette spoke slowly. Now that he was sitting still, the pain returned, sneaking into his muscles, tensing his joins. The light coming from above blinded him so he held his eyes closed, waiting for them to accustom to the brightness.

"What? You want me to drive? But...!" Marik squinted, being dazzled as well. He had figured that if Bakura was unable to drive they would have to camp in the car. But it didn't even came to his mind that he'd be the one who had to drive. "Bakura..."

"Why do you think I sat on the passenger's seat? I am sorry, I really can't drive tonight." A moan escaped along with Bakura's words.

"But I can't drive a car! I don't want to!" Marik lamented, gripping the steering wheel. Not that he was afraid to try. But the thought of handling anything else than his beloved motorcycle felt wrong. He didn't want to cheat on his two wheeled beauty of joy.

Bakura frowned. "You drive your motorcycle, why can't you drive a car?"

"I could try if you really want me to," Marik said between his teeth, "but I would surely fail. I have never drove a car before."

"Really? You never tried before? I thought with a motorcycle license you can also drive a car."

"I don't have a license."

"You don't have a license?!" That made Bakura sit straight again. "How - How do you learned driving then?" He stared at Marik in disbelief.

"I just started driving some day and here I am now." Marik shrugged, blinking at Bakura innocently. Then his gloomy smirk returned and his eyebrows shot up. "I'm a villain, Bakura. I don't need a frigging license!"

"That's the explanation for everything, hm Marik?" Bakura leaned back again and got infected by Marik's smirk. "Well, I guess we have to give it a try... Or we could camp here." Somehow, he had known how Marik would react to that suggestion.

Marik clapped. "Yeah, let's camp!" he squeaked, his eyes suddenly sparkling. "Yes, yes, yes! That's cool, camping is cool! At least that's what I heard." He clapped again and giggled until he remembered something. "Oh, unless you wanna go to see a doctor..." Sorrow replaced joy in his features and he leaned a bit closer to Bakura.

The white-haired boy shook his head. "I am okay, Marik. Just bruises. No need to be worried."

"I'm not worried!" Marik said promptly, sounding like he wanted to defend himself from an insult.

Bakura had expected that answer. "Oh, well..." He closed his eyes. "That's... " He didn't find an adjective that could describe his feelings without making him sound weak, so he let the sentence unfinished.

Their conversation came to a halt, as always at such a point like this. Neither Marik nor Bakura would admit that they would worry or think about the other. While Bakura was openly gay, Marik wouldn't even admit that he liked boys.

"Where's the anklet," Marik asked silently.

Bakura opened his eyes. "Here." He straightened up and held the golden item up. "I can't believe I got injured for that."

"Heey, don't talk like that about it!" Marik tried to grab it, but Bakura moved his hand up.

"Ah, no no no! I think I should have it, as I got injured for it!"

"Alright..." Marik mumbled. His hand sank but his eyes remained fixed on the anklet.

"Don't worry, I won't run off with it," Bakura said. "We will use it together."

The last word gained Marik's attention and the Egyptian looked up and smiled.

Bakura's heart jumped in panic. That had been too much affection. Nothing in the world would Bakura make showing his true feelings towards the other. "I mean, you helped me with the ring and all... It's only fair. We're partners," he said, trying to bring out the words not too fast. He opened the glove locker and squeezed the anklet in between piles of restaurant fliers, coupons and napkins which Marik had collected during stops at restaurants and which he refused to throw away. "Tell me first what powers that anklet exactly has and then we can decide how we use them," he mumbled.

Marik turned his head away, activating his rejecting mode as well. "Pah, I only helped you because I had to! I need - Er I mean, I could have never took another step into the dark without you."

Only when Marik was embarrassed and therefore looking away, Bakura would allow himself to look properly at Marik, tracing his features with his eyes, admiring the bronze skin. "Sure," he mumbled.

"Yes!" Marik's gaze fell back on Bakura. "That's the only reason." He snorted. "Stupid gay freak."

And with that remark he had turned the fight into his favor and had reminded Bakura how far away he was from his goal of coming closer to Marik. A goal he would never admit to have. "Sure," Bakura sighed.

"Hey, that's how it is!"

"Okay, Marik." Bakura felt tired. "I agree. Do you not hear me? Think I'm lying?" He might have lost the battle but he would never stop teasing his partner. "You're the little liar here, Marik. You're always lying, all day long." A smirk appeared on his face and he leaned back, closing his eyes.

The piercing voice of Marik prod through Bakura's ears, keeping him awake. "Heey, I'm not a liar!" the blond huffed, not letting any insult uncommented. "I'm not lying /that/ much...! Also I'm not little! I'm 5'11'' tall!" he added, glaring at Bakura.

Every so often Bakura had to chuckle inwardly when Marik was getting serious. Fighting with Marik was so much fun to him. "Marik you're lying the whole day," he said calmly, looking at the other. "And you're not even good at it. One could think you would improve as you're having so much practice but you do not."

Marik wasn't calm. "Oh Bakura! Shut the frig up! I'm not lying thaaat much, am I?"

Bakura tilted his head. "Remember when I bought a cake and you ate it all by yourself? You said you dropped it and threw it in the trash but your face was full of cream."

Marik rolled his eyes. "Oh that one time!"

Bakura actually loved Marik's excuses. He admired the boy's ingenuity to make up stories and to perform them with his never-ending energy. It also proved that it was important to him what Bakura was thinking about him. It wasn't healthy for their household though.  
"And when you broke the TV's remote and pretended to have lost it? Your act was way too exaggerated."

Marik blinked and he opened his mouth before he had found a suitable answer. Bakura could see in his eyes that his mind was working, searching, hunting for some witty return. "Ah, but that was because...!" But then Bakura chuckled and Marik lost his confidence. Bakura's eyes fixed him, left him unable to move. "Because I..." he added with no intention to end the sentence or to start a new one. He just stared at Bakura, unsure what was happening.

"And then there was the incident with the toaster," Bakura said. "We wouldn't have that ugly stain on the ceiling if you had just said the truth."

"Well, that..." Marik's mouth felt stiff. His eyes were still in captive of Bakura's.

Bakura shook his head and closed his eyes, cutting off the bond to the other. "Face it, Marik: You do lie a lot. /b/I wished you would say the truth for just one day/b/." He exhaled the last words. He knew what he would ask Marik if that case ever took place.

_Yes...! ~_  
Like a comatose patient awaking from a decennial dream, the Millennium Anklet lit up and began to glow inside the glove box as Bakura spoke the magic words. Patiently it had been waiting for someone to use it, to fulfill its fate, to guide it to its destination.  
And now that time had come! With a flash and no sound it worked its sorcery and satisfied the wish that had been spoken before crumbling into thin air leaving nothing but dark ash.

Marik gulped loudly when he saw the light crawling out of the chinks of the glove locker and clasped his hands before his mouth. With wide eyes he stared alternately at the glove locker, then back at Bakura, back and forth, as if he was watching a tennis match. Luckily for Marik the anklet's gentle glow cleared out soon enough and Marik dared to breath again. "W-What did you say," he mumbled, feeling a bit faint.

"I said, I wished you would say the truth for just one day." Bakura sat up again and yawned, before opening his eyes. Carefully, he stretched his sore limbs, then checked the time on his wristwatch. "Ahh... Marik, we had a successful day, so let's take a well-earned nap. It's already two a.m." He clicked off three of the headlights, leaving one burn. Then he turned around on his seat and searched for the handle of his seat to bring it into an even position.

Marik watched him. Bakura looked even paler with only one light on, presumably because the shadows on his face had darkened while his skin stayed as pale as usual. "For just one day, right?" Marik said. "That's what you said, right? That I shall say the truth for just one day." He waited until Bakura was done with adjusting his seat and was making eye contact with him again. "Right?"

"Yes." Bakura frowned. "What's wrong with you?"

Before Marik had even processed the question, his mouth had already spoken. "I am afraid," his vocal chords spoke and Marik gulped, but he couldn't swallow the answer back down. Shocked, he stared at Bakura. He had never used those words in front of Bakura. Showing the other his weaknesses once in a while was bearable as long as he could control the physical symptoms that came with that; Marik could start babble to distract himself and Bakura or he could fall silent when he was afraid that his voice would tremble too much. He could hide his paling or blushing face behind his long bangs of hair and he could tell a joke and laugh if he had to cover physical pain. But it was different when he actually admitted to feel fear.

"Oh," Bakura said, blinking confused. "I thought one light would be enough, but I can turn on anoth..."

"No, it's fine," Marik quickly said, forcing himself to grin. "I am okay," he whispered. "I am okay," he said louder, sighing silently. "I am okay." He felt exposed and climbed over the gear shift to the back seats, fumbling on the side of the seat, searching for the handle to move it. It wasn't the darkness he was afraid of. One light was enough. He was afraid that Bakura would found out what had happened two minutes ago and that he would leap at the opportunity.

"...fine," Bakura murmured, moving his head while fixing Marik with his eyes. Knowing, how his partner dealt with embarrassment, he acted casually. But he was curious actually, wondering why on earth Marik would admit to be afraid.

"Where is that thing," Marik whispered, not daring to return Bakura's gaze.

"Here," Bakura whispered back, reaching under Marik's seat, making the Egyptian twitch. A clicking sound followed and together they pushed the upper part of the seat down.

"Thanks," Marik mumbled.

Bakura frowned at him for a few seconds as if he was looking at an unsolved crossword puzzle in a newspaper. "Well, I... I go look if there's something useful in the trunk," he finally said. Marik nodded.  
Trudging outside, Bakura noticed that it was getting cold. The sky had cleared and the moon was now fully visible. When Bakura looked closely, it wasn't actually a full moon tonight. A little part was still missing. The wind caressed Bakura's face. A frog croaked somewhere in the distant. Was there a lake nearby? Closing his eyes, Bakura could smell the scent of water, but maybe he was just imagining it. Tonight wasn't all that bad, after all. If there was one thing that Bakura would admit about himself, then that he had fun being together with Marik. Even if the anklet was nothing more than a pretty piece of metal, they had had an adventure more to add to their list. Bakura made a mental note to himself to ask Marik to come back here again, at daytime.  
Quickly he heaved the trunk up, hissing at the pain in his limbs. He grabbed the two blankets and the flashlight he found inside. The flashlight worked, albeit hesitantly. Bakura returned to the back doors of the car and found Marik sitting in darkness. A bit of moonlight spread on his face.  
"Marik?" the spirit asked.

"Yes, I'm Marik," Marik answered promptly.

Bakura chuckled at the answer and climbed inside the car, throwing one red blanket towards Marik. He also passed him the flashlight. "Did you come to that conclusion all by yourself," he said in a sarcastic voice. Rolling his eyes, Marik spread the blanket. He laid down, holding the flashlight to his chest. He glared at Bakura for a moment without saying a word and turned around. He was afraid of talking too much, thus making Bakura asking questions he did not want to answer. It wasn't the first time Marik was acting weird, so Bakura just shrugged and laid down as well, facing Marik's back. "Good night," he said. Every movement hurt and Bakura was glad that he could rest his sore limbs.

"Good night," Marik answered, clenching the blanket. He was cold and hoped that he would get warmer soon.  
He did not. Marik was trapped in the sweet yet annoying world between dreams and reality. He couldn't fall asleep because he was too cold, but he couldn't bring himself to do something against that either. The fight against his laziness took time. A lot. Only when Bakura began to snore gently, Marik turned around and huffed. "Goddammit Bakura, it is cold!"

"What..." Bakura's mind arose from the clutch of sleep, not comprehending any words yet. He sat up, lazily open his eyes to face Marik.

Moonlight laid on top of Marik's face, following the distinctive cheek to the chin. "It's cold, do something!" the Egyptian said. "Turn up the heater thing!" He regretted his clothing decision; his lavender top was sexy and stylish, but at a night like this other qualities mattered.

Bakura breathed heavily. "It's not cold. Go to sleep, Marik." The whitette had not brought his coat along either but other than Marik he never froze.

"It is!" Marik protested. "And unless you wanna cuddle with me, you should get to the front and turn that thing up!" Marik was aware of Bakura's feelings for him and his fear of being exposed. He had used this knowledge more than once to steer his partner into doing things for him.

Bakura huffed at Marik's word choice. _Cuddle?_ He stared at Marik with wake eyes now. As if he would ever want to cuddle with Marik! Dirty sex in the rain; naked bodies rubbing against each other - those were the things that came to Bakura's mind when he thought of Marik. "Cuddle, yeah sure..." Bakura huffed again, this time with a chuckle. A glance at Marik told Bakura that the other meant it. Bakura's eyes flickered around and he frowned, but he moved his hurting legs and crawled out of his blanket. "Fine," he mumbled. Every discussion with Marik was a lost fight from the beginning. The sooner Bakura would obey, the sooner it would be over. But when he reached the front seats his hand sunk. "Marik, I can't."

"What?" Marik pulled his blanket over his head. "Oh no, what's wrong?"

"If a certain person had filled up the gasoline as I told him to, then a certain person wouldn't freeze tonight," Bakura said, looking over his shoulder.

"What? You never told me to fill that thing up!" Marik sat up, the blanket fell from his face.

"I did!" Bakura crawled back. "When we were at the gas station! Why do you think we stopped there?" He sat next to Marik and pulled his blue blanket over his legs.

"To get me snacks," Marik answered truthfully. "Argh, dammit!" He gulped and squeezed his eyes shut, sighing loudly.

"I'm so bloody tired," Bakura commented with a monotone voice. At certain moments he wondered why he put up with this Egyptian beast anyways. Marik was annoying, selfish and loud. Three things Bakura definitely couldn't stand. Although such a sudden movement caused him pain, he dropped backwards and pulled the blanket over his chest.

"So what now, Bakura?" Marik asked, being confused. "Why can't you turn the heater up?"

"If I do, the car will lose gas and we might not make it to the next gas station tomorrow," Bakura explained slowly, closing his eyes. "There isn't much gas left."

Two seconds passed before Marik understood. "Oh come on, noo...!" he wailed.

"Can't change that," Bakura said. "Good night."

Marik clenched his teeth, being stuck between two unpleasant scenarios: Either he would have to freeze now unable to sleep or tomorrow they would have to take a trip to a gas station and back, before they could drive home. And maybe Bakura would still be unable to move properly, so Marik would have to walk to the filling station alone.  
The car's windows were closed, so no wind bothered Marik, but the stationary air was cold enough to produce goose bumps on Marik's back. He moved backwards until he touched the backrest and pulled his legs close.

Hearing what Marik was doing made Bakura frown. Shortly, he opened one eye and closed it again. "Lay down, Marik. Try to sleep," he murmured.

Marik bit his upper lip, which wanted to form a pout. "Give me your blanket," he muttered, feeling anger coming up. He knew that Bakura would help him if he only showed how serious he was. But he wouldn't dare to admit how much he actually was freezing. Another sign of weakness.

"No," Bakura whispered after a while.

"You're not cold, are you?" Marik turned his head to face Bakura. "Give me your blanket then. I am cold."

"I won't," Bakura growled, his voice being muffled as he was sinking into sleep. "I will be cold without it." He turned on his side, away from Marik.

"But...!"

"Good night, Marik!" Bakura said loudly. Anger made him awake for a moment, then he felt sleep grabbing his mind again.

A sound of frustration left Marik's throat. "Bakura!" he added.

"Shut up!" Bakura yelled back.

"No! I am cold! I cannot sleep when I am cold!" Marik cried.

"Goddammit, Marik!" Bakura had reached infuriation again. He propped himself up on his elbows and glared at Marik. There was nothing which would silence Marik now, Bakura knew that. He had to make him warm or he wouldn't get any sleep this night. While he was still wondering how he should approach Marik's problem, the Egyptian slid closer to Bakura and pressed the back of his hand on Bakura's arm.

"See how cold I am!" came out of his mouth.

"You're not that cold!" Bakura moaned, catching Marik's wrist and straightening up, ignoring the pain that followed with that movement.

"I am! Look how I'm shaking!" Marik continued, staring at Bakura with wide eyes, blinking and whimpering.

Bakura felt the urge to grab and slap Marik but instead he clenched his teeth and his fists and groaned. Marik's fearlessness of Bakura had made the Egyptian interesting in the early stages of their acquaintance but sometimes Marik was carrying his confidence to extremes. It was nice to have someone around who would talk and fight back but being exploited wasn't nice at all. "I'd rather drive home right now than give you my blanket!" the spirit exclaimed. "You're such a spoiled brat!" He released Marik's wrist with a slap on his hand and scowled at him.

"I'm not a spoiled brat, I am a villain!" Marik retorted.

"Villains aren't that whiny!" Bakura yelled.

Marik's eyebrows twitched. "You don't understand that, stupid Fluffy!" he said, now sounding hurt.

But Bakura knew that this was only one of Marik's strategies. "Yeah, call me Fluffy, then I will surely give you my blanket..." he mumbled, his voice becoming lower.

"Aw come on, Bakura!"

"No!"

Marik pressed his lips together, quickly scanning his mind for a new way to convince Bakura. "I hate you," he said loudly.

"I hate you too, good night." Again, Bakura rolled away and hoped that Marik would shut up this time. He had never won a fight against Marik before and some part of his told him that it was useless to try it but his anger was louder this time. So Bakura stayed silent and listened to Marik's fake sobs.

Time passed while Marik sighed and sobbed, and huffed and wept. He stared at Bakura and hoped for a reaction from his partner. But nothing came and Marik pouted. Finally, he laid down, trembling slightly. He wasn't making this up, he _was_ cold. Didn't Bakura care? He hadn't tried to be annoying at first but Bakura had made him angry. It was unfair of Bakura to continue sleeping while he was freezing. What could he do? He wouldn't sleep until his problem was solved.  
Marik slid closer to Bakura. He moved his hand up and poked Bakura's side.

"Maariiik...!"

The growl was louder than expected. Quickly, Marik turned around, pretending that he had not done anything.

Bakura rolled on his back. He breathed out heavily and stayed on his back, wondering what he should do. But his mind was pumped out so he gave up on thinking and simply poked Marik back.

"Hey!" Marik pressed his hand on the spot that Bakura had touched and tried to look over his shoulder. "Don't do that."

"Right, touching is not allowed, eh? Guess it's gay," Bakura mumbled.

"No, you may touch me," Marik mouth answered quickly, before Marik could stop it. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, wishing that Bakura hadn't heard him.

Bakura froze. "Huh," the Brit said. His mind was sleepy but he forced it to work. Before asking, he sat up, staring at Marik. "You want me to touch you?" The unbelief in his voice was clearly audible.

"Yes." The word jumped out of Marik's mouth before he had comprehended the question. The Egyptian growled and turned on his stomach. He was sure that his face was all red.

"What?" Bakura laughed. "Why?"

"Cause I like it." Marik let out another growl, pushed his face against the cushion and grabbed his hair.

"What!" Another laugh came from Bakura. He didn't sound amused but confused.

As was Marik. Why was he saying those things? Sure, he had to tell the truth because of the wish Bakura made on accident. But was that the truth? He wanted Bakura to touch him? He liked it? Besides the big embarrassment Marik felt, there was also some amount of surprise. Why would he say those things? Unless... Could his feelings be true? Cautiously, Marik looked up. A wide blush was spread across his face. Yes, he liked Bakura. But not in that way!

Bakura couldn't help but laugh more at the strange situation, as he was unprepared for such scenarios. Sure, he had imagined more than once how it would be if Marik had the guts to be honest with him. If he just grabbed him and kissed him, undressed him and fucked him senseless. But having Marik telling him such things was awkward. Neither Bakura nor Marik were good with expressing feelings by wording them. Though it seemed that the blond didn't want to say the things he was saying. As if he was forced to say them. But why? And more important: _Where they true?_

Marik stared at the other, pressing his lips shut. He wanted to tell Bakura to stop asking questions, but then Bakura would naturally ask why and Marik would blurt out the truth and Bakura would surely use that to his advantage. Moaning, Marik buried his head in his arms and pushed his legs up in the air, kicking the seat with his feet. "Gahhh! Dammit!"

Bakura watched him. "I'm confused, what is wrong with you?" he muttered.

"I cant lie!" Marik exclaimed, voice muffled. "Ahhhh! Frigging shit!"

"What." Bakura kept staring.

Game over, Bakura had won. "Shit!" He would find out everything now. "Shitty shit!" Marik whined and looked up once more. "Bakurahh..."

"You can't lie?"

"No, I can't." Marik clenched his teeth. "Bakura, please stop asking questions!"

"Eh..." Bakura blinked, frowning. Right, Marik's answers were weird, they seemed forced. Could it really be that Marik was unable to lie when Bakura asked him a question? How did that happen? Bakura tensed up and moved, bending forward to Marik. "Is that the power of the anklet?" the thief asked with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, that's the power of the anklet," Marik answered with closed eyes. "Ugh." He let his head drop in defeat. It was over now. Definitely over.

Bakura was too surprised to move, he was still merely staring at Marik. "You cannot lie anymore? Like never ever?"

"Just for one day, so I guess its over in twenty four hours, at two o'clock." The words tumbled out of Marik's lips while his eyes widened. "Twenty four hours," he whispered. "Oh." It would be over then? Maybe he could make it until then without getting embarrassed by Bakura. Maybe he could just keep his ears shut and...

Or maybe not. Upon hearing Bakura's chuckle, Marik knew that there was no way the whitette would let such a chance pass by. "Marik can't lie... Or how interesting, how utterly interesting." The awkward moment had passed, at least for Bakura as he was in advantage over Marik now. So the ominous anklet was magic after all! It did fulfill wishes!

"Bakura," Marik wailed, hunting for Bakura's eyes, wanting to lock them with his own. "Please..."

"Hmm." A big grin appeared on Bakura's face. "I could ask you so many things..." He slipped his tongue between his teeth. His eyes wandered around.

"Bakura," Marik whispered. Tensed, he waited for Bakura opening his mouth again. He twitched when the others eyes fell on him like the blade of a guillotine falls on the victim's head.

"Marik," Bakura purred, "do you have a night light in your room?"

"Yes," Marik answered.

"Do you switch it on every night?"

"Yes." Marik pouted.

Bakura's grin vanished and he frowned. "Hm, not very amusing if you're so cool about that. Let me think of something else."

Marik sighed. One part of him was relieved, as he had expected different questions from Bakura. The other part was still tensed as there was plenty of time for Bakura to ask him more. He began shaking at this point. He was still cold and with the tension around them he felt only colder.

"Marik, is your tan fake?" Bakura's smirk was back on his lips.

"N-No," Marik stuttered. "Not completely."

"But you do go to a tanning saloon?" chuckled Bakura.

"Yes, but only twice a month," Marik whimpered.

"Do you tan your backside too?"

"Yes."

After a chuckle, Bakura continued. "Are you naturally blond?"

"Yes, but I bleach my hair slightly."

"Aha! I knew it," Bakura mumbled. "But your six pack is real, yes?"

"Yes, it's real, how the fuck could a six pack be fake, Bakura?" Marik yelled, growling. He felt exposed - no, rather robbed out of all his mysteries and secrets. It wasn't forbidden to upgrade one's appearance, why was Bakura grinning like that! He knew nothing about Marik, he didn't understand him! What a mean partner!

Bakura just laughed and moved to the back, leaning against the seat. He crossed his arms and tilted his head. "Hm." The smirk was still on his lips.

Huffing, Marik turned away, showing Bakura his back. He didn't say anything and just waited for the next salvo of questions. He found the flashlight next to him and grabbed it. He felt more secure with it.

Without those bright eyes staring at him, it was much easier for Bakura to ask the next couple of questions. But before he did that, he laid down, next to Marik and slid closer to him. "Marik," he whispered.

"Yes," Marik sighed, pulling his blanket up, trembling slightly.

Bakura touched his shoulder, avoiding Marik's back. He removed the hand quickly again. "Do you like me?" he asked low.

"Yes." Marik gulped. Those were the questions he was afraid of.

"Mm. You like my touch?" Again, Bakura placed his hand on Marik's shoulder.

"Yes."

Bakura felt the corners of his mouth rising. Why did those answers make him so happy? His frozen heart beat a tad faster.

It increased its speed more, when Marik suddenly turned around and his nose almost touched Bakura's. The thief backed away as well as Marik, panting in surprise. They remained close to each other though, their bodies touching, their eyes locked. Bakura held his breath for a moment and just stared at the other.

Marik stared back, unable to blink. He hadn't intend to be so close to Bakura but now that he was, he couldn't move away. He was like a deer in front of a car, shocked by the moment. "Bakura," he panted, wringing the flashlight in his hands.

Bakura relaxed. "I may touch you, right?"

"Yes," Marik said, closing his eyes and frowning strongly. His eyebrows shot down and he tensed up.

It was tempting to have Marik so close but Bakura wasn't thinking of taking advantage of the situation. He merely placed his hand on Marik's cheek. "You really are cold," he commented.

"I told you," Marik mumbled, opening his eyes again. He glared at Bakura and pushed his hand away. "And you didn't believe me! Why the heck would I lie to you about that?"

"Shush, no need to yell," Bakura smirked. "I have an idea." His voice got soft and Marik looked up at him. It was the same voice he used when he did Marik a favor.

When Bakura sat up, Marik did the same and stared at him. "What's your idea?" He put the flashlight aside.

"Lay down, Marik," Bakura said.

"What's your idea?"

"Lay down first. You'll see." Bakura moved slowly, getting up on his knees.

"What is it?" Marik frowned. "Tell me!"

"Lay down, goddammit!" Bakura growled.

"No! Tell me your idea!"

"How can anyone be so annoying!" Bakura grabbed Marik's shoulders and pushed him down on his back gently, before Marik could protest. When their eyes met, they both froze, noticing how close they were once more. Bakura kept holding Marik's shoulders and fought against a blush that wanted to force itself on his cheeks. No breath was drawn for a moment.

Marik felt weak being pushed and touched by Bakura like that. He couldn't stand to lose control, especially not in front of Bakura. No, he even felt like he had to constantly prove his power to his partner, as he was afraid of falling back. The worst thing about the situation was that Marik would had the strength to get out of Bakura's grip and to push him away, but he simply couldn't because of the others stare, his eyes, his smell, his touch.

Then Bakura's anxious mind lost against his longing heart and he leaned in but Marik frowned and looked away. A sting of pain came with the next beat of the thief's heart and he felt the urge to exhale a big sigh. His heart had lost and his mind told him that he should have never tried it. Bakura wasn't sure if the Egyptian was blushing or if he was just seeing things but he smirked a little. "Do you like it, when I talk like that?" he murmured.

"Yes," Marik said, pouting.

"Like my touch?" Bakura lifted his hand before Marik's face.

"Yes. - Argh, stop that!" Marik slapped Bakura's hands until the whitette let go of him. "Now tell or show me your frigging idea cause I want to sleep! Aren't you tired, Bakura? Aren't you hurt? You seem to be pretty fine, why can't you just drive us home before we freeze!" He sneezed after that and rubbed his nose. "Dammit, I'm gonna get sick and it's all your fault!" Marik hated Bakura in this moment. Everything had gone wrong. Bakura had used the eighth Millennium Item to make a pointless wish so their whole trip into the cave was for nothing and now he was tormenting him with his questions.

"To be honest, I feel a bit better," Bakura said calmly, ignoring Marik's fury. "But you're right, we should sleep a little. Give me your blanket," he said and pulled Marik's cover away, making Marik cry. He felt his heart sink into nothing. Once in a while Bakura build his hopes up but as usual they crashed into little pieces of regret and embarrassment.

"Heeey!"

"Shh, just a second." Bakura kept talking low and Marik pouted, wondering why he did that. This voice did something with Marik's insides, it twirled them all up and left Marik excited and confused. Bakura got up and drew his blue blanket over Marik, then he spread the red one over Marik as well.

The blue blanket was still warm from Bakura's body and Marik drew both covers closer, happy about Bakura's attention and the warmth. Just when Bakura slid next to Marik and under the covers he raised his voice again. "Hey!"

"Shut up, Marik." Bakura put his hand on Marik's forehead. "You're all cold. Come closer to me," he whispered. He noticed Marik giving him a weird look. "What." After Marik's rejection Bakura's feelings vanished into thin air and left no intention to come closer to Marik, well only to warm him, nothing more. That basic care taking of Marik would always stay even when Bakura felt distant from his own feelings which was how he usually felt.

"Stop talking like that!" Marik grunted, feeling a blush appearing over his cheeks.

"Like that? Why?" Bakura smirked, playing with his voice, stretching the vowels between his lips.

"Because you make me nervous!"

"Mmm." What an opportunity. Bakura slid as close to Marik as he could without touching him. His feelings didn't come back though.

The Egyptian next to him was tensed, gripping the blankets strongly. He turned on his side, away from Bakura. "Please, just let us sleep! Stop flirting with me! I'm not g...!" The word almost fell out of his mouth, but Marik swallowed it and kept silent. His heart was beating loudly, up to his ears. Now. Now he would ask. Now Bakura would surely ask and Marik couldn't do anything to stop him!

But only a chuckle left Bakura's mouth and the Brit turned around as well, making their backs brushing against each other. "Good night, Marik." Bakura was tired. The look on Marik's face when he realized that he had lost control of the situation had been tasteful but Bakura felt like he had teased him enough for one day. He could continue tomorrow. He had been running out of idea's anyways. What could he ask him? Bakura felt like there must've been thousand of questions Marik should answer truthfully. But not a single one came to his mind.  
He heard Marik sigh and the rustle of him turning around again. Bakura felt parts of his hair being pulled, they were probably stuck under Marik's head. "What is it," Bakura whispered. "Why are you turning around."

"Moonlight in my eyes." Marik's voice was close and soft.

"M-hm." An idea formed in Bakura's head. A small idea, that felt more embarrassing the more he thought about it. But with Marik facing towards his direction Bakura could look at his face, observe him while he slept. When would he ever get to see him like that again? Bakura was awake again, waiting patiently a couple of minutes before he turned on his other side and met Marik's glare.

"Why are _you _turning around?"

Bakura pulled his hair under Marik's head and gave Marik a glare back. "I'm still injured. My other side hurts when I lay too long on it."

"Sure," Marik said and closed his eyes. "Good night."

"Good night," Bakura muttered. He felt the urge to hold his breath while he traced Marik's face with his eyes. How beautiful his partner was, how alluring. Bakura wondered how he looked like without slightly bleached hair and slightly tanned skin. He could smell his body odor under the layers of shampoo and body oil which the Egyptian was using. He wanted to pull Marik close and to inhale his smell, to feel his firm body against his. Bakura sighed inwardly. There, his feelings were back.

"What are you lookin' at," Marik grunted, not opening his eyes. As he got warmer, he noticed how tired he actually was. But he couldn't fall asleep with Bakura looking at him.

"Nothing," Bakura replied. "I'm trying to sleep."

"I can feel you looking at me."

"You're wrong, my eyes are closed," lied Bakura. Suddenly, Marik's glare shot at Bakura. In the dark his eyes made Bakura think that Marik was a cat. Those bright eyes staring at him, furiously."Oh come on, Marik. Don't look at me like that. I had my fun, good night. I won't look at you anymore." Bakura did what he said and closed his eyes, now with the intention to fall asleep. It was late and he had to drive tomorrow. Enough teasing for today.  
Yet Bakura got the feeling that now Marik was still staring at him. He tried to ignore the feeling, but it didn't go away. Bakura concentrated on Marik's breath, hearing the air floating in- and out of Marik. Knowing that the other was so close to him launched an unknown feeling in Bakura's chest. The feeling of being safe. The feeling of not being alone in the world.  
Bakura opened his eyes and indeed, he saw Marik looking at him.

Unmoving, Marik continued watching Bakura as if he didn't notice him opening his eyes again. At first he had only wanted to make sure that Bakura wouldn't open his eyes again, but the longer he had stared at his partner the more he got confused. Confused about himself. Why was he so afraid of Bakura asking him if he was gay? There was no reason to be afraid. Unless it was true. That he was gay. But that couldn't be, it wasn't true. If a gay part of him existed, than it was only a small, tiny bit part. Just one percent. But why was it always that little part that screamed the answers to Bakura's questions...?

And suddenly Bakura knew why having Marik blurting out the truth wasn't as fun as he first thought it would be. He already knew everything about Marik. Knew him so well like a hundred times read novel. "You look at me like you want to hide some terrible secrets," Bakura whispered. "But I know you. There's nothing that could scare me off."

The teasing game seemed to be over. Marik felt that he could trust Bakura. "There's just one question I am actually afraid of," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "and I'm surprised that you haven't asked me it already. Thought it would be the first thing you would ask at a chance like this..." He looked away. Bakura chuckled and Marik looked back at him. "You know what I mean, huh?"

Bakura nodded.

The calmness of his partner confused Marik. "Aren't you going to ask me that question?"

Smirking, Bakura said: "Well, if you insist..."

"NO," Marik's eyes widened in fear, his pupils held Bakura on the spot. "Please," he said. "Please, don't."

Never had Bakura seen Marik so resolute. He had liked to laugh at him. Wasn't the question ridiculous? Pointless? They both knew that Marik was gay, his sister and his brother knew it, even the Pharaoh and his minor company knew it, hell anyone who spend one minute with Marik knew it! Why couldn't the stubborn Egyptian just admit it?

"I beg you," Marik said and his eyes whispered the same.

"...alright," Bakura said, half laughing, half huffing. It was just pointless, so he let Marik have his way. After a bit of staring at each other, Bakura turned around and wished Marik a good night, probably for the third or fourth time this night. While turning around his elbow bumped against Marik and he added a low "sorry".

"Argh, stop it, Kura," Marik muttered annoyed. A bit of warmth vanished when Bakura turned away and Marik frowned.

"You said it was okay," Bakura whispered, ready to sleep. "Touching you."

"No its not okay," Marik said and Bakura sighed. The blond always had to have the last word.

"You said earlier it was fine."

"But it is not."

"Why not?" Bakura asked, forcing Marik to answer truthfully.

"Cause it's gay."

Bakura had enough of the discussion. Gay, gay, gay. Since when did the world care? In ancient times everybody was fucking everybody and nobody cared. Bakura turned around and cleared his throat. "So what?" he asked. "What's so bad about being gay?"

"Gay is bad," Marik's mouth answered. He sat up.

"Why?" Bakura raised his voice.

"I don't know, my father said so!"

Both men looked at each other as if someone else had spoke the last sentence. Marik frowned and looked away, mumbling a small "oh." His fear of being gay was deep rooted but he had never actively thought about where it came from.

"What did your father say?" Bakura's voice was low again. He laid on his back.

"My father said being gay was bad and unhealthy. I have to have a heir..." Marik bit his lips. "Bakura..." he whispered, grunting. "Please..." Talking about their past was a taboo which they had never crossed before. Both thieves understood why the other wouldn't want to talk about their earlier life, one of those many things other people wouldn't understand. Yet Bakura had asked and Marik was disappointed in him.

But Bakura wanted to continue. Maybe he could solve Marik's problem, maybe he could make him accepting his sexual orientation. It was worth a try. He sat up, needed to be at the same level as Marik. "You don't need to have a descendent anymore," Bakura said slowly. "You are free. You're no longer a member of the tomb keeper family... You can be gay or whatever you want to be now."

Marik's cheeks became hot, he felt uneasy. "...but... he said it was bad..." Marik mumbled, jerking away from Bakura.

"Only because of you cannot have descendents, when you're gay," Bakura continued. "Which is... - I mean, it's just how nature works." Trying to help somebody without gaining any benefit for himself felt weird to Bakura. "If you want to know, the only reason why the world today is so against gays is because various religions want people to reproduce which they obviously cannot with the same genitals... In ancient Greece and Rome gays weren't frowned upon, it was perfectly okay." Bakura tried to look at Marik, but the Egyptian kept moving his head away.

"Yeah, yeah, I know!" he sighed. "That's... - Whatever, can we please stop talking about this?" What was Bakura doing? Marik didn't want him to play the counselor. It was uncomfortable enough to talk about his past. When they first met they wouldn't take a second glance when the other was in pain. Since when did their partnership turn like this?

"You have a new life now, Marik. You're no longer a tomb keeper."

"Okay! I know! Good night!" Marik moaned, laying down and turning away.

Bakura wondered if he had been any help. He was sure, Marik had been as surprised as he when he began talking about his father. How could Marik be so unknowing about his feelings? Could he repress all those thoughts so strongly that he had forget them? Maybe it had something to do with Marik's split personality, maybe Melvin knew things that Marik didn't and the other way round.  
Bakura laid down, close to Marik. He relaxed to the sound of Marik's breath and his smell. If he hadn't been so sleepy, the feeling of lust would've been more annoying. It had never gotten overwhelming though. As long as they remained partners Bakura could keep it down, the fire that flickered once in a while.

Somewhere deep inside Marik was aware that he liked men and not women. Suppressing those thoughts and feelings had been easy. He would not even admit that he would suppress something or that he was confused. What Bakura had said made sense. Of course his father's disgust of homosexuals came from the fact that they could not have children. Sex was for making babies, not love. Yet the feelings that came upon Marik just by hearing the word 'gay' remained the same: Disgust, rejection, fear.

But Bakura was gay and Marik had no problem to be his friend - yes, they were friends. They did not had to confirm it, they knew it. Bakura would never admit that he liked Marik ever so little, but Marik knew that too. He could see it in every glance Bakura threw at him and he could hear it every time Bakura said his name. Disgust didn't come up when he thought about Bakura. Only the feeling of being understood and safe.

"Marik, are you warm now?" Bakura whispered.

"Yes," Marik answered smiling.

A short while later Bakura began snoring and made Marik sleepy. His partner was close but wasn't touching him. There was something distinct in Bakura's snoring that made him sound like - well, Bakura. A bit of the baritone that was also in his voice. It accompanied Marik on his way into the dream world.

TBC


	3. Marik couldn't lie? (2)

**What if**

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**...Marik couldn't lie?**

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**PART TWO**

The next morning came fast and sent sunlight in Marik's eyes, making him temporary blind. The Egyptian responded with a grunt and kicked off one of the blankets, feeling too warm. He turned around, twitching when he saw Bakura sleeping next to him. Right, they were sleeping together in the car because of their trip to the cave. To the Eight Millennium Item. Which already fulfilled a wish. Unpleasant memories.  
The world outside the car was bright and loud, filled with the sound of chirping birds. Marik wasn't ready for that, so he pulled the warm blanket over his head and fell asleep.

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He woke up again to the sound of Bakura humming along to a song. _'...that was just a dream... try, cry, why, try... that was just a dream, just a dream, just a dream... dream...'_ He felt the car was moving. The sun was lower now and no bird sound was heard. Marik sat up and blinked until he could see sharply again. He got out the two blankets and listened to the song fading out. Bakura's humming stopped in the moment Marik moved.

"Morning, sleepy head," Bakura said, glancing at the rear mirror to meet Marik's eyes for a moment, before he concentrated on the road again.

"Morning," Marik mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?" He felt too warm again. Also his skin itched and his mouth tasted putrid. His hair needed to be brushed and his make-up surely needed to be applied on new too.

"Almost noon. Are you hungry?" The next song began, but Bakura turned off the radio and the rushing sound of passing cars was audible again.

"Yes." Marik nodded. Even when he was asked a simple question like this, his mouth was faster than his brain. Annoyed about being reminded of his curse, he sighed and crawled to the front, sticking his head between the seats, looking at Bakura.

"Me too. Let's stop somewhere," Bakura said. "What would you like? McDonald's? Taco Bell? I just saw a sign. There's a big stop with lots of restaurants soon."

"Eh, I don't care. Let's just stop somewhere. I need to pee. Since when are you driving?"

"You don't care?" Bakura chuckled. "Nine, I guess."

"No. - Mm. So early?" Marik yawned loud and exaggerated. "Aren't you tired?"

Bakura smacked his lips in annoyance. "Marik, don't yawn in my ear! Yes, I'm bloody tired. But the sooner we..."

Marik bend away. "Shut up, I do what I want! What do you expect me to do? I don't wanna sit here in the back! Why didn't you wake me up when you started driving?" He crawled back to the back seats and pulled his backpack up to search for his mirror and his eyeliner.

"Hm? I assumed you wanted to sleep as long as possible." Bakura sighed. "We're soon at the stop, then you can come next to me," he mumbled.

"Mm, you should have waited with the driving until I wake up!" Marik removed the last nights make-up with a tissue, then began to apply his trademark eye ornaments anew.

"Why?" Bakura sighed again, louder this time.

"I don't like it when you do things without me, I want to be with you all the time," Marik answered. He twitched and almost stabbed himself in the eye with his eyeliner. "Stupid Fluffy."

There was no response from Bakura, just a faint smile on his lips. Hearing those small avowals from Marik energized him. The restaurant sign appeared on the side of the road again and Bakura slowed down and steered the car to the parking place, beginning to hum again.

Marik knew why Bakura's mood had improved and he tried to huff his blush away. "I want to be in control, that's all," he mumbled. "I don't care about you."

Again, Bakura didn't respond, but hummed softly. Asking Marik about his little secrets which weren't secrets at all had turned out to be boring, but Bakura had thought of something new already. He would make Marik say things about him - Bakura - and maybe Marik would realize his feelings for him. Maybe. Bakura parked the car on the next empty spot he saw, then opened his belt and got outside. His partner was looking for something in his bag so Bakura waited for him. He played with the keys in his hand and looked around.  
Fresh air blew over the wide parking lot, carrying some leaves and dirt. A few spots of grass on the right and left side highlighted the grey ground. Only a few cars were waiting for their owners and the restaurant building looked abandoned from the distance. Clouds build a strong wall in the sky, making Bakura worry about rain.

"Marik." Bakura knocked at the window.

"Just a sec!"

Bakura looked inside, frowning. "Marik!" He opened the door in front of Marik. "Come on now, you can brush your hair later!"

"Noo, I have to look good!" Marik huffed. He was on his knees, head bend down, his silver hair brush like a weapon in his hand.

"What, for whom? I doubt that you'll meet anyone you know in there!"

"For you."

The answer came fast as always, causing both thieves to freeze in their movements for a second. Marik continued brushing and Bakura grinned. When Marik looked up, his hair fell into the right space: two bangs of hair on his shoulders and the rest behind his neck. He put his brush aside. Bakura offered him a hand. "You don't need to do that for me," he said low.

Hesitantly, Marik grabbed his hand and stepped outside. "I do that for myself, not for you!" he said loudly, trying to make the awkwardness go away. When the wind touched his shoulder he tensed up. "Ugh, cold." He let go of Bakura's hand, but the whitette didn't, but jerked him closer, making the freshly brushed hairs of Marik jump up shortly.

"I like your messy look," Bakura said in a husky voice. "It's something."

Everything, the sudden closeness and Bakura's voice, his statement and the longing look in his eyes felt like fire on Marik's skin, especially on his cheeks. He snatched his hand away and showed him his tongue. "Stop it!" he yelled. Before Bakura could shoot a new grin at him, he stomped away. He couldn't prevent to hear the other's laugh though.

"I thought you liked compliments. What's up with you?"

"You make me nervous!"

Bakura was too lazy to catch up to Marik and Marik was too annoyed to wait for Bakura. So they walked separately towards the restaurant complex. The closer it came, the more lively it seemed; there was motion inside, people became visible, and five steps before the door generic pop music could be heard. Marik rushed inside, rubbing his arms.

The greasy smell of chicken and french fries pulled him by the nose and took away the decision which restaurant to chose. It was remarkably calm in it. A woman with an asleep child on her arms stood before Marik in line, looking up to the big metal plate that was the restaurant's menu. _'The Hot Chick'_ was apparently the restaurant's name. Two men, standing away enough from each other like strangers would, watched the small soundless TV in the corner. Both had small pieces of paper in their hands and were occasionally looking behind themselves to the kitchen behind the counter, were the sound of cooking and the smell of food were coming from. The pop music was almost not audible here. At the other end of the room, a group of three girls sat at a table for eight and giggled while eating.

A man in a pink shirt appeared behind the counter. His dynamic appearance made everybody look up for a moment. "Number 67, big french fries and big coke!" His voice was unnecessary loud. One of the men in front of the TV moved and took the plate and glass off the counter. The woman with the child cleared her throat, making the man in pink step closer. "Yes?" he asked.

"I assume, that you haven't brought your wallet with you, hm," Bakura's voice said.

Marik turned around to Bakura's standard facial expression: A small smirk on the lips and attentive eyes. Marik wasn't owning a wallet, not one he could call his own anyways. There was no change in Bakura's voice that could indicate sarcasm so Marik only knew that Bakura was messing with him because he mentioned the non-existent wallet. He knew his partner well by now and could read a lot between Bakura's mostly subtle lines. "Pff, why should I," Marik replied grinning. "Let's just steal some food and drive away."

"No." Bakura shook his head. "I need a rest." He moved his shoulder blades in a circular motion as he walked past Marik to the nearest table. The man in front of the TV glanced at him. That wasn't unusual, Bakura was used to get strange looks. White, long hair was unusual for a guy his age. Or was it his gloomy appearance? Maybe some left-over blood stains on his boots?

"Do you have money with you?" Marik asked.

Again, Bakura shook his head. He sat down. "Nope. I used the last money for gas."

"Oh. Right! Did you walk to the gas station this morning?"

"No." Bakura looked up. "The car had enough actually. I filled it up at the first station. It was close though."

A frown and a pout appeared on Marik's face. "Oh, right. So the car had enough," he said in a deep tone. Then he changed to his usual shrill pitch again. "That means you could have turned on the heater for a bit yesterday! Oh, I told you, Bakura! Screw you!" Now that he knew that he had been right, Marik wouldn't let Bakura forget the topic easily.

Bakura didn't had to look around to know that people were probably staring at them. Marik's voice was piercing enough even when he was relatively calm. "Mh, I don't think so. It was really close," he said calmly, not letting Marik making it big. There was nothing Marik said to this, as he was shortly perplexed of Bakura's simple answer, so Bakura used the chance. "What, wasn't I warm enough for you yesterday?" he added with a big grin, eager for the answer.

"You were," Marik said promptly, adding a growl. "Argh, Kura! Just... go! Go steal some money!" He turned away, feeling less and less hungry. Bakura was keeping pushing him to the edge, making him say things he didn't want to say, things that weren't true. Probably.

"You go," Bakura said. "I drove although I don't feel well. Your turn." His voice was monotone, a symptom for his fatigue. Poor sleep, hunger and remaining pain weren't mood lifters. Bakura had no energy left to cope with Marik.

Normally, Marik would welcome an opportunity to steal, but with time his hunger for crimes grew and a simple task as stealing someone's wallet wasn't bringing him much joy anymore but boredom. "No! Your turn! I don't want to and I won't. I'm not even really hungry." He turned back to face Bakura again, putting on his pout again, maybe it would help to convince his partner.

Bakura sighed. "I understand, Marik." He stood up, closing his eyes for a moment. Dizziness grabbed his head. "I guess there are better things you would want to do now..." He smirked at Marik, who was staring back confused. "Tell me, what would you rather do now? With me?"

"I would rather relax somewhere, in the car, with food, feeding you and getting fed by you," Marik's answer came. He got instantly a red face and wailed, looking away. "Ahhh, no..."

Bakura's smirk grew. Marik's described scenario formed before his eyes: Both of them in the car, feeding each other with whipping cream, then coming closer and kissing and stroking... What? Kissing? Stroking? No, rather banging Marik hard until he pleaded for mercy! The thief shook his head and sat down again, his train of thought was cut of by his sickness. "Uh."

"I have no idea why I am saying those things, Bakura," Marik said calmly, wanting to sound serious. "They are most definitely not true."

"Yeah, yeah," Bakura mumbled, facing the ground. "What about we cuddle after eating? Would you like that?" He pushed the words quickly out of his mouth.

"Yes, I would like that very much. - Aaah, stop asking me such stuff! I understand! I'm going then! Stupid, lazy Bakura!" Marik huffed and turned away, ready to go, but a soft moan from Bakura made him look back. The other didn't seem to be fine. Was he still hurt? "You know, it's hard to tell whether you're sick," Marik mumbled, stepping back to Bakura. "You're already so pale when you're not sick."

"Thanks for your concern."

"I'm not worrying about you!"

"I know." Bakura looked up. It didn't matter if he asked Marik about the correctness of his statement. He knew that Marik would just deny it again. Suddenly, the fun in his little teasing was gone. It felt surprisingly good to hear what Marik was truly thinking about him but then again it hurt how much effort the boy put to hide his feelings.

Not even now, not even with the power to make Marik say anything Bakura wanted, he could make him admit the truth. And when Marik couldn't even admit the obvious truth in front of Bakura, did he really trust him then? Was their partnership real? "I know that you're not caring about me at all," Bakura muttered. Reverse psychology wasn't his intention, but maybe it would work with Marik?

It didn't. Marik's eyes widened at the unexpected answer. "Erm, whatever. I'll go, but only cause you're asking me weird stuff!" He hastened away, wanting to put some space between him and Bakura now anyways. The more Bakura made him say things he wanted to hide, the more he doubted himself. Was he gay? Did he like Bakura in a gay way?

The restroom's white doors caught Marik's eyes, reminding him that he wanted to pee. How could he had forgotten about that. To his luck there was an easy victim there, standing before the urinal, not keeping attention to the rucksack on his back. Marik closed the restroom's door silently, then sneaked to him and quickly went through all the pockets until he found a wallet with money inside. Fifty-two dollars weren't much but enough to feed Bakura and him and fill up the car's tank if it needed to be filled up.

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Half a dozen of minutes later Marik walked back where he had left Bakura. Despite what he had felt before, his stomach was rebelling against the lack of food and now he was feeling the hunger too. The smell coming from the kitchen seemed to be stronger now, teasing Marik's nose. He glanced shortly at the metal plate, then looked at the table where Bakura had been. It was empty and Marik turned his head, finding Bakura sitting further away, holding his head between his hands. "Stupid Fluffy, don't make me worry," Marik whispered as he walked towards his partner. "Don't make me worry, cause I do not worry about you."

Bakura glanced up, recognizing the sound of Marik's steps. "Hey. Found something?"

"Yes. Fifty bucks." Marik shrugged his shoulders. He looked at Bakura, wondering what was different. His lips looked paler than usual, that was it. "What shall I get you?"

"Oh, you'll bring me my food? What have I done to deserve this kindness?" Bakura asked.

"You look sick and I worry about you."

That one thing that Marik had denied vehemently to himself and in front of Bakura had just been proven to be true and both boys were startled by this. Marik forced a confused chuckle. His doubts grew and grew, breaking through his wall of fear. He sighed. It had to be true, he was worrying about Bakura, of course he was. Marik was tired of fighting against his curse. "So... What shall I get you?" he mumbled.

Although Marik had just been proved wrong by his own words Bakura only chuckled and didn't look up again. Any other time he would have laughed loudly and make Marik say it again. But now he felt exhausted and hungry, so hungry. The edges of his chair were sharp and the light in the room was too bright. He just wanted the scenario Marik had described before to be true; being in the comfy back of the car, feeding Marik and being fed by him. "I-I don't care," he said. "I want what you want."

Marik got moving without a comment, they had lost enough time. "Oh, of course," he growled silently when he saw four people standing in line. "What a luck I have." At least he had some time to decide what he should get. French fries? And a salad? Or maybe fried potatoes? Eggs? Every word on the plate sounded delicious to Marik. He wondered if he should get Bakura the chicken. He had said that he wanted what Marik wanted but Marik didn't eat meat and Bakura absolutely loved it. It would give him some energy back. More than french fries would. "Seems like I really do care about you," Marik sighed.

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The smell of chicken and Marik's steps came closer. "Here," the Egyptian said, putting a tray down before Bakura. He rushed back to the counter to get his own tray. As soon as his butt touched the seat he and Bakura began eating, not caring about how they looked while doing so. Bakura didn't use the cutlery Marik had put on his tray and just teared the soft flesh off the chicken legs with his teeth. He used his non-greasy hand to drink big gulps of cola between his bites. Marik moaned when he bit into his vegetarian burger. "So good," he mumbled. The french fries were hot but he chewed them anyways, not minding his burning tongue much. Bakura tried some too and asked Marik what was inside his burger.

"Not meat," Marik answered.

"I guessed so, but what then?"

"A patty made of vegetables."

Bakura had never heard of such a thing and shrugged, continuing eating. He tried his burger, thankfully his was a regular one. A moan escaped his mouth too. "Mmm, thanks Marik."

Marik smiled, being glad that his partner seemed to be better now. "Don't thank me, thank the stupid guy who was too busy holding his wilkins while I was robbing him."

"Wait, what." Bakura looked up. "Oh, you were in the restroom." He snorted. "No, I mean thank you for getting me meat, sometimes I forget you're a vegetarian."

Marik shrugged as a response. A part of him thought that it wasn't a big deal. Another part of him liked it when Bakura was being polite to him, using '_thank you's_' and '_please's_'. He didn't say those words around other people. Their eating pace slowed down. As Marik's stomach began to hurt, he leaned back and made a full stop for a couple of minutes. "Uhh, eat more french fries, Kura. Can't eat them all."

"You didn't touch your salad yet," Bakura remarked, before leaning a bit forward to reach the fries.

"Yeah, I want to eat that, that's why you can have the fries."

"You bought too much, as usual."

"So what? We can eat the rest in the car."

"Mm." Bakura's eyes stayed a bit too long on Marik and the Egyptian noticed Bakura's stare.

"What?"

"Nothing," the whitette muttered, grabbing his coke. Didn't Marik remember what he said earlier about them eating together in the car? "I'll lay down a bit after this, okay? I barely slept."

"Yes, sure." Now it was Marik who kept looking at Bakura. "Why did you got up so early anyways? You could have waited for me."

"I thought it would be nice to be home before you wake up," Bakura answered, cleaning his hands with a napkin. "You're a very annoying co-driver." He grabbed his fork and knife and ate the remaining bits of his chicken.

Marik had been forced to say a lot of things today already so he kept shut and didn't response to Bakura's insult. In fact he would have liked to stop talking altogether to Bakura until two am, but that was impossible, he feared. After a bit of staring at his bottle of fanta, Marik looked up, huffing. "It's not my fault if you're a lousy driver and won't accept any improvement suggestions!" he snapped. The urge to talk back to Bakura had been to strong.

"If you don't like my way of driving, then drive yourself," Bakura mumbled while chewing. "Lazy brat."

"I'm not lazy! I don't have a license!"

"Well, me neither."

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They didn't talk much after they finished eating. Marik asked one of the men in the pink shirts to wrap up their leftovers while Bakura went to the car to take a nap. Marik strolled around outside, looking for potential victims. He found a small playground behind the building, albeit the rusty metal didn't look very inviting. He sat on a swing and yawned. The sky was full of clouds now, blocking any sunlight. Marik began to freeze and stood up again. Should he go back to the building or to the car? When the first raindrop hit his shoulder, he knew the answer: the car. The car was closer. "Friggin shit!" he cursed. He ran as fast as he could, protecting his head with the plastic bag where the leftovers where. "Bakura!" he gasped when he opened the door. "Ughh..."

Inside the car it was warm and silent. Bakura laid on the backseats, facing away from Marik, the blue blanket almost over his head. No sound came from his direction. His body was raising slowly up and down. Marik climbed on the drivers seat and closed the door slowly. The soft clicking sound elicited a small grunt from Bakura. Marik had liked to turn on the radio or to talk to Bakura but he didn't.

"Are you sleeping...?" he whispered. Bakura didn't answer and that answered Marik's question. "Uhh, I'm bored..." The Egyptian leaned back and stared at the ceiling of the car. While his heart beat slowed down to his regular pace, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the sounds around him. The soft dripping of rain against the windows. Bakura's faint breathing.

Marik felt sleepy. Why had Bakura put the backseats back up? There was no space for Marik like this. He didn't mind to sleep next to his partner as long as he wasn't awake. Yes, when Marik thought about it, it had been nice to be so close to Bakura. He liked him, as a friend. He had been pleasantly warm for a man with supposedly such a cold heart. No, Marik knew about Bakura's crush on him. It wasn't a secret. Every time the Brit looked at him, he felt it on his skin. The want. He heard it when Bakura called his name. He called him often by his name: '_Marik. Marik, come on. What did you say, Marik? Marik, wait for me! I don't care, Marik.'_ But he did care, Marik knew it.

It felt good to be wanted. It was nice to play, to tease him. It felt adventurous. As if Marik could jump straight into an affair with Bakura, in any moment. He just needed to kiss him and Bakura would kiss him back, surely. But Marik wasn't gay, no, of course not. He just liked Bakura as a friend and he liked to play. Like a cat that has a full tummy but continues to play with the mouse it caught just for the fun.

Why was the curse making him saying wrong things then? It was malfunctioning, yeah, that was it. Maybe Bakura hadn't phrased his wish precisely enough. Yes, that was it. It wasn't because of Marik, no, no, no.

"Uh."

Marik opened his eyes and looked behind himself. Bakura was moving, turning stepwise around. With closed eyes and choppy movements he turned on his back, first with his torso, then with the legs, then he turned further, torso first again, the legs following. Marik wondered why he moved like this, was he still hurt? He hadn't seem hurt when they were in the restaurant, but he if he was, he wouldn't show it anyways. "Bakura."

The addressed boy popped his eyes open, making the face of someone who clearly had expected to be alone. "Marik," he said.

"Um, do you mind if I sleep a bit too?" When Marik found eye contact, he grinned at his partner.

Before the answer came, Bakura frowned. "That means I have to get up and put the seats down first, hm."

"If you don't mind."

"Why are you so polite, Marik?" The whitette shook his head while getting up. The world was shaky and blurry, and Bakura yawned at it. He was too tired, not having anything from his short nap, as he hadn't reached REM-sleep yet.

"I was thinking about you and your crush on me and concluded that I should be careful because I don't want you to ask me any embarrassing things anymore." The sentence came way too fast and the boys stared at each other for a few seconds, needing time to comprehend the meaning behind the words first.

"My crush on you?!" Bakura then yelled, blinking quickly.

"Yes, your crush on me."

"I don't have a crush on you!" Frozen in place, Bakura tensed up. He knew that he should just shrug it off, but he couldn't think rationally in this moment and just stared at Marik, hoping that they would end this topic soon.

"Fine, I don't know, I... Ghh, it's your own fault, why did you ask me this!" Marik clenched his fists and threw them up, growling.

"I wasn't thinking, I just asked!"

"Alright and now stop asking or I'll get crazy!"

The tension slowly faded out while the two thieves looked at each other.  
Finally, Bakura could cut off his gaze from Marik and he moved to the seats and pushed them down. He knew that Marik was aware of his feelings, of course he was. Still, by hearing him saying it, it got a different meaning, it made his crush real, it made it accessible for debate and Bakura definitely didn't want his feelings to be a topic which Marik could use for one of his rants.  
Marik watched Bakura adjusting the seats and crawled next to him, when Bakura laid down. He didn't had to ask for a blanket, Bakura threw him the red one and turned around, mumbling "Good night, Marik."

Marik felt the urge to respond. One second passed, then another. The urge was still there so Marik said: "You mean good afternoon."

It seemed that Bakura had a short fight against his urges too and as Marik, he lost. "You know what I mean," he sighed.

There wasn't anything to add to that, so Marik turned away and pulled the blanket closer to himself. He wasn't freezing this time but he got used to sleep with a blanket and always needed one, even in the hottest summer nights.  
Now that no word was spoken, the sound of the rain knocking against the windows seemed louder. Nothing besides a greyish blur of thick rain was visible behind the window. Marik closed his eyes, but he couldn't sleep. "You know, that it isn't true, right?" he whispered, loud enough for Bakura to hear but silent enough to not wake him up, if he was already sleeping.

"What?" Bakura cleared his throat. "What are you talking about?" He sighed loudly and mumbled "Ohh, Marik, please! Why...!" His voice decreased to a mumble, while Marik was answering his question.

"I'm talking about the facts you made me say."

"...can't you just be silent..." Bakura finished.

"Facts?!" Marik cried. "Ahh, why am I saying facts? Those aren't facts, they are lies, lies, lies!"

"Lies," Bakura repeated, hoping that Marik would notice his sarcastic tone. "Yes, that exactly what I wished for. I wished for lies and that's why you are telling lies now, Marik."

"But the things I said about you are lies! I don't care about you and I don't think about you and..."

"Really? You're are going to deny all those things?" Bakura asked in disbelief. He sighed, while Marik affirmed his question with a delayed "yes." The whitette turned to Marik, staring at the back of his head for a few seconds. "It really has no sense then," he muttered, more to himself than to Marik. "I lost the fun in it anyways." He let out a huff. "I'm giving up. You won, Marik. You won and I lost. I just can't continue this stupid game anymore." He chuckled. "I waited 3000 years to get my revenge on the pharaoh but I cannot continue to fight against you. I just can't. Good night." He turned away again.

The words had been spoken too fast, Marik looked over his shoulder and let out a confused "eh?", then turned around completely. "Bakura," he said, frowning. Would his partner give up, just like that? That wasn't what Marik had in mind. It felt good to be loved. He did care about Bakura, he just couldn't admit it. "Bakura," Marik said once more, but it was useless. Bakura wouldn't answer now. So Marik closed his eyes and just lay there, unable to sleep. Guilt came up, along with shame and fear. He didn't want Bakura to stop liking him but he was too afraid to give him anything back.

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When Bakura moved again, Marik woke up. He didn't remember when he had fallen asleep, but it couldn't have been very long. The rain was still making noise, not so loud as before though. Some outline figures, most likely cars, were visible through the greyish wall of rain. "Bakura?" Marik asked, sitting up.

"Just a bit hungry." Bakura had the plastic bag in his hands and opened it, getting out one paper bag. He felt Marik's eyes on him while he put three cold fries in his mouth. "Want some too?"

"No. Thanks." Marik shook his head, then stretched. "Ugh. Stupid rain. Are you feeling better? When do you think can we continue?"

"When the rain stops."

Marik frowned. Bakura's behavior wasn't unusual actually, but Marik sensed a slight change in Bakura's way of speaking. The thief was still upset, Marik could tell. But what was he supposed to do? He wasn't gay, at least that was what he always told himself. Yet he didn't want Bakura to stop loving him. It felt cold to be in this world without anyone caring.

Again, both boys were quiet, both busy with their own thoughts. Marik tried to figure out how to make up with Bakura and Bakura tried not think about Marik, but inevitably, he did. When the rain slowly stopped pouring, Bakura slid down one of the windows and peeked outside. Marik watched him, sensing that the other was about to say something. "I'll go take a piss, then we go home," Bakura said, not bothering to look back or to wait for a reply, but walked out of the car as soon as the last word left his mouth.

Marik nodded, then sighed and pouted. "Stupid Fluffy," he mumbled.

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When Bakura came back, he glanced at Marik. "Come, get up. Put your seat back up, we're going."

A little while later their car was on the road again. Bakura fumbled with the radio until he found a station that played pop music, Marik's favorite kind of music. He hummed along with it. Marik frowned at him. Was his partner okay again? Marik began humming to the song as well, mumbling a bit of the lyrics.

'_...clap along if you feel like a room without a roof..._'

Bakura chuckled and Marik looked at him.

"Tell me, if you need to pee," Bakura said slowly.

"Uh, why did you say that, now I really need to go!"

"Fine, I'm taking the next exit."

"It's your fault."

"Yup."

Marik frowned. Bakura was way too cooperative. Normally, Bakura was giving him witty responses back and fighting a bit before he let Marik win. Marik had never noticed before how much he loved playing those little games with his partner. "Stupid Fluffy." When would Bakura return to his old self again?

"Gay Egyptian," came the reply.

Marik gasped. "What? I-I'm not...!" The word got stuck in his throat when Bakura suddenly glared at him.

There was nothing Marik could answer to this, nothing came to his mind. Bakura's revenge had hit him hard. Marik gulped. He deserved this. If Bakura had feelings, even if it were just shadows of feelings, faint memories of trust and affection, Marik had destroyed them. He had stomped on the small ember and Marik would need a lot of compensation to built up the steady fire in Bakura again.

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Bakura's stare hadn't last for long, but the imagine of his eyes haunted Marik still when he came back from the toilets. "Hey! Did you get me one too?" he asked Bakura who was standing besides the car, crunching chips between his teeth. He was holding Marik's favorite brand of chips and grinned. A shot of hope came up in Marik's heart, making it beat faster. Bakura was grinning, did that mean that he was okay again?

"It's all yours, I just took one handful." Bakura gave Marik the chips bag and got back into the car, leaving Marik standing outside. "Are you coming?" Bakura raised one eyebrow; his grin was gone again.

"Yes, sure," Marik answered and sat back next to the other. While Bakura was starting the car, Marik watched him. Bakura hated pop music, maybe not all of it, but he clearly preferred songs with a sad note. He had turned on the radio to that one station that only played the top 50 pop charts. And now he bought those sour cream flavored chips Marik loved so much. If Marik hadn't known it better, he would have guessed that Bakura was apologizing to him.

"We can take the route through the fields, hm? You said you wanted to see the sunflowers bloom, remember?"

"I remember, yes."

"Alright."

"Wait. Doesn't that take like an hour longer? It's not exactly a shortcut."

"Hm. Takes half an hour longer, I think." Marik didn't reply, so Bakura steered the car off the motorway and after a couple of right- and left-turns they were on a dusty country road with the sun hitting the windscreen. Bakura pulled down his sun visor, then pulled down the one on Marik's side too.

Enough. It was enough. "Bakura," Marik chuckled helpless, overwhelmed with the situation. "Why are you nice to me? I should be the one..."

"Forget it, everything is alright." Bakura interrupted him quickly with a low voice. He regretted what he had said the previous night, no, he was even ashamed of it. Being so weak, saying such things to Marik was pathetic, senseless, inexcusable. How could he destroy his dignity for the sake of a useless attempt to make Marik's brain work. He would never think, never try to have more with Bakura and Bakura didn't even know if he wanted more. It was fine that it remained a dream, a tangible possibility, not more. "Let's not talk about it," the spirit added.

"No! You are weird! Stop being weird and start being... Well, my Fluffy again."

Bakura glanced at Marik with a surprised look, but the other boy looked away, hiding his face. "I'm not your Fluffy, I'm Bakura," the paler boy mumbled, staring at the empty street before them. More and more dust rose from the ground, making the sight blurry. "We're partners in crime," Bakura added, when Marik didn't said anything.

"And friends..." Marik dared to move his head towards Bakura again, but his gaze didn't stayed long on Bakura, he too then stared outside at the street before them as if the answer to their problem was laying there somewhere in the reddish dirt.

Never had Marik called him a friend. But it was true, yes they were friends, Bakura felt the same. This wasn't just a partnership in order to defeat their common enemy, the Pharaoh. They understood each other, despite being so different in many ways. The things they shared; the pain, their fateful pasts, their hunger for crimes; their bond was special, they both knew. Yet it was difficult to express the feelings they had toward each other as they both were unfamiliar with handling emotions.

So nothing was said, Bakura didn't know what to answer to Marik's reply and Marik thought it was Bakura's turn to affirm their friendship. But Bakura didn't, so Marik remained silent as well. The sun hid itself behind clouds, only sometimes pouring her shine down. Marik leaned back and closed his eyes. The soft rumble of the car over the road made him sleepy. He was holding the chips bag firmly in his hand but didn't had the appetite to eat. Bakura turned on the radio and turned it off again, when Marik let out an irritated grunt.

When Bakura turned left, the scenery changed suddenly. Red powder was still floating in the air but as Bakura drove closer, it was more and more outshone by the golden light of the sunflowers. Hundreds of them stood proudly next to each other in long rows, rocking gently, caressed by the wind. As far as Bakura could see, there were only sunflowers, sunflowers, sunflowers, perfectly big and majestic. "Marik," Bakura exclaimed, slowing down the car. Marik didn't move. "Hey, wake up! Look! Your sunflowers." He nudged the boy next to him.

"Oh? Sunflowers..." Marik straighten up, blinking with tired eyes. "Oh," he gasped, leaning closer to the windscreen, eyes and mouth opened. The flower meadow was on the left, on Bakura's side, and Marik looked past his white-haired friend, admiring the peaceful, yellow beauties. "Aw, so pretty," he muttered. The sun's ray was coming from the right and the flower's heads were turned to it, eagerly drinking the life-giving power of the sun.

"Thanks," Bakura smirked.

"Oh, not you! Stupid Kura!"

"Aren't I'm pretty as well?" Bakura asked, his gaze still focused on the street.

"Yes, you are," Marik's curse spoke and Marik added: "...not." But there was a noticeable pause between the actual sentence and his addition.

Again, Bakura didn't respond, not even chuckled, but Marik was sure that he was laughing inside. At least he was being teasing Marik again. A good sign.

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Shortly after they passed the long flowery field, Marik fell asleep again. His head fell to the side. When Bakura approached the motorway again, a traffic jam greeted him and he growled. He pulled the chips bag out of Marik's hand and crunched some chips between his teeth, waiting for the line to move. Marik mumbled something in his sleep. Bakura put the chips back on his lap and took a look at him.  
It should have been only a glance, but Bakura couldn't take his eyes off of him, feeling suddenly drawn to the blond. What exactly was it with Marik, that made Bakura feel alive again? How did the boy do it? Then the car in front of theirs moved and the one behind them honked and Bakura brought his mind back into reality. "Alright, shut up!" he moaned, when the honking wouldn't stop. He moved the car forward.

"Uh." Marik twitched, crossing his arms and his legs, shuddering. "Why are they honking..."

"Because they are idiots," Bakura responded. "Are you cold?"

"Yes, a bit."

"Take a blanket."

"...mm...too lazy..."

Soon, they reached another stop and Bakura drove to a gas station and counted the money that was left. "Hey, are you awake? I'm gonna fill up the car a bit. Will you stay inside?"

"No... Yes..." Marik gave only the mandatory answers to Bakura and rolled to the other side, facing his side window.

Bakura filled up the car, waiting patiently until the counter reached the number he wanted to see. He checked on Marik, who was still asleep, then payed inside the station and bought two in plastic wrapped salads. He returned to the car, opened the back door and threw one of the blankets over Marik's head.

"Hey!"

"Here." Bakura sat down next to Marik and handed him the vegetarian salad. The other was on his lap. "Just let me find a parking spot, then we can eat." The place was crowded with cars, but a few spaces were free and Bakura parked between two other cars.

Marik had snuggled into the blue blanket and struggled to open his salad. Bakura took it out of his hands, sighing. He returned it opened.

When they began to eat, they didn't risk to take a look at the other. Soon the plastic bowls were empty and Bakura got out of the car to throw them in the trash.

"Kura."

"Hm?" Bakura sat down again and faced Marik, who held up the plastic bag with the remains of their lunch earlier.

"What's with that? Do you wanna eat the rest of the chicken or..."

"Uh, no. I bet it's not good anymore." Bakura grabbed the bag and left the car for a second time.

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Another few hours passed with Bakura sitting behind the steering wheel, concentrating on the road and Marik sitting besides him, yawing and feeling bored. He watched cars passing by or being left behind and regretted that he hadn't brought his Gameboy along. Who would have thought that he would get a in a fight with Bakura and would need it!  
So Marik tried to doze off again, even if that meant that he would probably not be able to fall asleep tonight.

Slowly, the sun laid to rest, showing off her glory with bright colors which blinded every motorist on the road, including Bakura. The thief pulled down the sun visors again and noticed that Marik fell asleep again. "I hope you won't keep me up at night," he muttered.

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One hour later Marik was still asleep when Bakura parked the car in front of their house. Marik sighed in his sleep. The image of him being wrapped up in a blanket with messy hair and sweaty skin made Bakura burn inside. He didn't want to destroy the peaceful image but he had to. "Hey," he murmured, tapping Marik's cheek. "Marik."

"Uhgnn..." The boy wrinkled his nose and turned away.

"Marik." Bakura grabbed his arm and shook him, his other hand still near Marik's face.

"Huh?" In the second when Marik popped his eyes open, Bakura brushed his thumb over Marik's cheek and Marik blushed. "Uh, what? A-Are we home?" He felt Bakura's cold hand on his skin and looked into two brown eyes, staring at him with an undefined look on his face.

"Uh, yes." As quickly as possible, Bakura drew his hands back as if they had never been near Marik and got out of the car. He hurried to their front door, keeping his head down. He could still feel Marik's warm skin under his fingertips and he could still smell him. How warm was this boy actually? He must have more than the usual 98 . Bakura opened the door and waited until Marik had caught up with him, then proceeded to hurry inside.

"Hey, what's with you?" Marik followed the other slowly inside, having the blanket wrapped around his body. "Uh, what time is it?" No answer came and when Marik stepped into the living room, Bakura was already gone. Some rumbling came out of his room. Marik shrugged and let himself fall on the couch. Lazily he glanced up to the clock but it was too dark to make out the positions of the watch hands. One window was open and cold air caressed Marik's cheek. It remembered him of Bakura's touch. Marik stretched his arm and grabbed the TV remote off the table. The red dot in front of him turned green after he pressed a button and then Marik turned his back to the TV and wrapped the blanket closer to himself. He listened to the sounds of people talking and the happy music of the ads, but he couldn't fall asleep.

So he got up again and turned on all the lights between the living room and the kitchen and prepared himself a sandwich. He made a cup of cocoa too and added two slices of bread with marmalade to his plate. Then he noticed that he should add something healthy too. In the end he carried two big plates of almost everything he had found in the kitchen to the living room and sat down.

The door to Bakura's room opened. "Hungry, hm?" the thief chuckled, passing Marik, opening the fridge.

"Yes."

"Can I shut off the lights here?"

"Yes."

Bakura came back with a knife and one of his Bavarian blood sausages, sitting down next to Marik.

"Ew," Marik muttered when he smelled the meat and moved to the edge of the couch. There was darkness creeping behind him and the details of their kitchen furniture where unrecognizable now, but Marik took a deep breath and looked forward again. He was used to sit in the enlightened living room with the dark kitchen behind him. But sometimes, when he came home after being at a gloomy place like a cave, he felt the danger crawling up his skin, still clinging onto him, as if he had brought it home.

"Want some?" Bakura asked, offering him one slice of his sausage.

"No. - What? No!" Marik snapped out and stared at his partner, growling at his grin. "Why do ask me that? You know I hate your rotten sausages!"

"They're not rotten," Bakura replied, chewing. "Can we change to something else? This show sucks." He grabbed the remote.

"Yes. Sure, whatever." Marik proceeded to engulf his dinner, uncaring about the happenings on the TV.

When Bakura found something worth watching, he leaned back, chewing slower. "Can I have one of your bread slices? Or do you really plan to eat all this?"

"Yes. - No." Marik's answers still came fast-rushed and mechanical. "But don't take the one with the cheese!" The curse was still doing its work, so Marik concluded that it wasn't two am yet.

"Okay. Thanks." Absentmindedly, Bakura chewed one marmalade bread, then cut off more of his sausage.

Marik's eyes wandered to the TV and he tried to make sense of the plot, but apparently the movie was almost over. "What time is it?"

Bakura glanced at the clock. "Past midnight."

"Eh. I'm not even tired."

"That's because you overslept the whole day in the car!"

"What else was I supposed to do," Marik muttered. "You weren't very entertaining."

Bakura faced him and grinned. "Since when do you need me as entertainment. You entertain yourself enough, Marik."

"Hm." Marik didn't know how to response to that. He didn't want to say that it was because of their weird fight. Or whatever it was. Was it a fight? It hadn't been a fight, no, but something had changed. Yet it was so subtle, that Marik wasn't sure what it was and how he could address it. So he just asked: "Are you tired?"

"Yeah, very much actually," Bakura sighed. "Driving is damn exhausting for some reason."

"You don't have to stay with me, you know," Marik muttered quickly. Bakura looked at him and Marik looked back. "Eh, I mean..." The blush on his face forced Marik to look away. "I just leave all the lights on until I go to bed."

"Okay," Bakura said, sounding like he wanted to add more. But he didn't. They watched the ending of the unknown movie, both making a disgusted face while the protagonist saved the girl from the falling staircase in the burning house and began kissing her once they were outside. Bakura switched to another channel. "How can anyone like such movies," he muttered.

"They can be good," Marik replied, "but most of them are cliche, yes." He turned his head to Bakura. "You would like them more if they would show gay couples eh?" He chuckled.

"Sure," Bakura said, still changing channels, not facing Marik. "Wouldn't _you_?"

"I would," Marik said, his face turning red. "Ahhhh, dammit!"

The chuckle that Bakura made was low and sounded forced. He put the remote on Marik's lap and patted his knee. "It was two when I made the wish, right?"

"Right."

"Lucky you. I'll go sleeping then and won't bother you anymore." Bakura heaved himself up and stretched his arms up, sighing. "Good night."

Marik watched him going back to his room, closing the door. "...good night." That was it? No more teasing? Suddenly, Marik felt distant. Distant from Bakura and distant from himself. Bakura seemed to have forgiven him, but something had changed, something was broken. Why wouldn't the spirit try to get as much as possible from Marik, now that he couldn't lie? Marik remembered him saying, that he knew everything about Marik and that there was nothing that could scare him off. It was Bakura's way to say 'you can trust me'. He had said that he had given up to reach Marik, but how could one give up on his feelings? You couldn't actually make them disappear, could you?

The TV's constant blaring got on Marik's nerves and he turned it off. The sudden silence felt refreshing. A sound came from Bakura's room, the sound of his PlayStation turning on. Didn't he say that he wanted to go to sleep? Marik felt the strong urge to be with Bakura, he always felt it when he was bored. Or happy. Or sad.

Ten steps later he was at Bakura's door, knocking against the wood before going in. He ignored the angry "no" and plopped onto Bakura's unmade bed which was right next to the door. The owner of the room was sitting before his TV with a controller in his hand, using the bed as backrest. "What do you want?" Bakura asked, shooting glares at Marik.

"I want to spend time with you." Marik didn't even mind saying that. It didn't matter at this point. He had already said so many embarrassing things. Soon he would be able to deny everything again. He crawled to the bed's end and lay on his stomach. "What are you playing?" The head light was on but the bulb was weak so it was still dark in the room even with the TV turned on. But the room was small and Bakura was near, so Marik felt safe.

Bakura faced his TV again and some of his hair strands fell on the bed. Marik caught one, playing with it. "I don't actually play, I just wanted to see what's going on in PlayStation home."

"Mh-hm."

"Feeding my fish and going to the casino and such stuff."

"Mh-hm."

Bakura turned his head and Marik had to let go of his hair. "You won't sleep tonight, eh? I can see it coming."

"I don't think so." Marik crossed his arms and put his head on them. "Feeding your fish? Since when do you care for virtual fish? You won't let me have any pets in my room, why..."

"I just want that trophy, that's all." Bakura looked ahead again as the game had loaded and he moved his virtual self on the screen.

Time passed while Bakura loaded various virtual places and did various errands. He had turned off the sound, and only the soft buzzing of his PlayStation was audible and the clicking of the controllers buttons. Marik rolled around on Bakura's bed, always watching the screen. The game seemed boring to him and he didn't understand why it was so important to Bakura. But he observed Bakura's game figure and played with Bakura's hair.

When Bakura was finished, he turned off the program and the games console. He stood up and sighed at Marik. "Get out. I'm gonna sleep now."

"Mhh..." Marik was on his back, looking up to Bakura. "But I'm so bored. Can't I play a bit on your PS? I could play some Sims, I haven't played that in a long time."

"While I sleep? No way, get out." Bakura went to the side of his bed and made a motion with his hand, shooing him away.

"Yes. - Ahh, Bakura! Come on!"

"No! You are way too loud!" Bakura grabbed the blanket Marik was laying on and pulled it, rolling Marik over onto his stomach, making him laugh. "You are always loud," he added. Marik rolled on his back again and just smirked at Bakura, giving the thief an idea. "Alright, you know what, Marik, you can stay in my bed and we could do things... Like, uh..." He sat down, grinning. "I don't know, help me, what would you want to do with me in my bed...?" His eyes wandered over Marik's body and stayed on his exposed stomach, watching it rise up and down with Marik's breathing.

"Cuddling," Marik said promptly. "Uhh," he added, covering his face with his palms. "No! No, no, no! I never said that!" And suddenly he crawled out of Bakura's bed and fled out of the room, accompanied by Bakura's laughter.

Chuckling, Bakura undressed and got under his blankets, turning off the light. "Cuddling," he muttered in a mocking tone, as if the word wasn't real. The image of Marik in his bed stayed for a bit in his mind. If he had touched Marik's stomach, would he had felt the warmness of his skin? If he had ran his hand further up, would he had felt his heart racing? Bakura turned around and sighed.  
It wasn't new that Marik had turned down Bakura's tries and it wasn't the first time that Bakura had decided to give up on him. But he couldn't change his feelings. No matter how small, there was something bounding him to Marik. He was the one, undoubtedly. Yet this time things were different. Bakura had had the impression that if only he would try it hard enough, Marik would finally open up to him and that they would somehow making it work. But when the boy would even deny the most obvious things one second after he had said them, what more could Bakura do? He would never give up on him, no, he couldn't. He shouldn't have said that. But the certainty that it would never work between him and Marik had doubled.

Marik was standing behind the door, leaning on it. His head dropped, his chin touched his chest. "Cuddling," he murmured, feeling the heat on his cheeks when he said the word. "Ohh, stupid Fluffy..." Despite the humiliation, he wanted to return to Bakura and talk more to him. He kind of liked the teasing now, it was exciting. The more Bakura teased him, the more he accepted the truth. The curse did made him say the truth, Marik grew accustomed to that. Finally he moved and went to the fridge, getting himself a coke, then he lay down on the couch, feeling unhappy and awake. The clock stroke half past one.

Ten minutes later the coke can was empty and thrown into the trash and Marik stood before Bakura's door again. He didn't knock this time, but slipped in and left the door open, needing some light. Bakura turned over in the second the door was opened, growling. "Oh, I knew it," he sighed. "I knew you wouldn't let me sleep."

"I'm sorry, Kura, but..." Marik sat down on Bakura's bed and Bakura sat up. "I don't understand why..." It was dangerous to start that topic again, but Marik's curiosity was stronger. He just had to know.

"Why what?"

"Why you won't ask me the question."

"Which question?" Bakura asked annoyed, wanting to get Marik to the point.

"If I'm gay."

A big sigh of frustration left Bakura's throat. "Damn it, Marik! I know the answer, you know the answer, half of the world knows the answer! There is no point in asking you!" He was yelling now, gripping the bed sheets and staring at Marik.

Untouched by Bakura's loud voice, Marik looked to him. "It's still some time left. Twenty minutes..." He saw Bakura's naked chest and formed his mouth to a pout, wondering if Bakura always slept half naked.

"I know, Marik!"

"But don't you want me to say it? You..."

"No," Bakura said, stretching the word. "There's no point to in doing that. It doesn't matter. After two you can just deny everything again. It wouldn't make any difference."

"Why not? You would hear it, you would have evidence, you could record it... - ah, I mean, no, don't do that..." Marik looked away, his cheeks getting warmer again. He should be careful what he was saying, but at this point he didn't mind, he just wanted to understand Bakura's lack of interest in Marik's sexual orientation.

"It doesn't count if I get it out of you by magic," Bakura said, his voice being lower now. He looked at Marik, who was looking back, blinking.

"That doesn't count..." the Egyptian repeated, his eyes wandering off as his mind began traveling. It didn't count. It wasn't of any use if Marik was denying it. Yes, where was the difference when Marik would deny it? All this time Marik hadn't understand, but suddenly it clicked in his mind. His behavior hadn't changed at all. With or without magic he was still denying the obvious so in the end nothing would have changed. Bakura didn't want to hear him saying things he already knew, Bakura wanted him to be honest. It was a matter of respect and trust.

"Now would you please leave my room and let me sleep?" Bakura asked, laying on his back and closing his eyes.

"No," Marik whispered.

"Marik."

"Twenty minutes," Marik said silently, scanning Bakura's face. He cleared his throat. "Twenty minutes, okay? I just want to stay twenty minutes. Then I'll leave, I promise."

Bakura's eyes cracked open. "Why?"

"Because I want to tell you something."

"Hmm..." Bakura frowned, trying to figure out Marik's intention. But he quickly gave up and rolled on his side. He was too tired to make his brain work now. "Fine, whatever. Just be silent." If he wouldn't be so tired, Bakura would have been excited to have Mark sitting on his bed, wanting to spend time with him. But now all he wanted after that long, exhausting day was some rest.

Marik gulped, his heart was racing. Twenty minutes. He glanced at the TV's digital clock. Five minutes had already passed. Fifteen minutes were left. He put his legs on the bed and leaned back, laying besides his partner. After a few minutes of silence, Marik began to hear Bakura breathing and looked over at him. He sat up and bend over to look at Bakura's face. The thief had his mouth opened. His eyes were relaxed, the eyebrows resting over his eyes in a straight line, not bend down as usual. Before Marik had realize it, he had lifted his hand and was about to touch Bakura's hair. He hesitated, but finally patted the other's head, giggling. A sleepy moan came from Bakura and Marik grinned.

Bakura's room was too cold for Marik's taste and after ten minutes he got under Bakura's blanket. He pulled it until he felt resistance, eliciting another moan from the other. Bakura's hair was next to his face and when Bakura moved his head, one his hair strands tickled Marik's face. "You need to get combed," Marik chuckled. He turned on his side, facing Bakura's back. The thief's white hair was spread out on the dark blue pillow, longer and shorter strands of curls covering the fabric like fresh snow on dark pavement. Marik slid closer and buried his face into the white mess, smelling Bakura's scent.

When the clock finally stroke two, Marik had fallen asleep, unaware that the power of the Millennium Anklet had vanished. He was snoring besides Bakura, his face buried in the other's hair. After some time the hair tickled his nose and Marik turned away without waking up. He grabbed the blanket, thinking that he was in his own bed, and pulled, exposing Bakura to the cold. The whitette didn't notice nor move, his mind being too deep in the world of dreams.

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"Uh." When Bakura opened his eyes again, he was cold and stiff. He leaned over Marik and snatched the blanket from the ground, covering himself with it. Only then he noticed that Marik was there. The boy next to him was curled up and seemed to be shivering so Bakura shared the cover with him, after some hesitation. He slid closer to the other so that the blanket would cover them both. "It was just a trick, eh? You never wanted to leave," Bakura mumbled. "But why? I'd assume it would be 'too gay' to spend the night in the same bed with me."

Bakura was tempted to kiss Marik. He was asleep so he would never know. But only a glance at Marik's face told him that if he would kiss him, he wouldn't stop, he would want more and the feeling would become unbearable. His feelings shouldn't develop, they should stay down there in Bakura's stomach as a tingly feeling, nothing more.

Suddenly, Marik's eyes flew open and his pupils enlarged. "What are you doing in my bed?! Go away!" He sat up, drawing arms and legs close to himself. "Eh?" Then he realized whose bed it was and he relaxed. "Oh, yeah, right," he mumbled.

"It's my bed, silly. You wanted to stay until 2 am but you stayed the whole night," Bakura explained with a low voice. He couldn't take his eyes off of Marik, because there it was again; his messy look: the uncombed hair, the smudged eyes and the light smell of sweat.

"Yeah, yeah, right..." Marik scratched his head, looking down. He remembered his plan and now that a night had rushed by, he found it to be stupid. It didn't matter. Bakura didn't care anyways. He wouldn't make him ask him the question. It was embarrassing. Why would he want to do admit it and make a fool of himself?

Their eyes met; a random chance of looking up at the same time. While Bakura tried to hold down his feelings, Marik wondered if he should give them a try. Outside, a group of kids, probably a class, could be heard, coming closer and closer as their twitter became louder and louder. Bakura's breathing pace sped up with the sound and just when he thought he couldn't take it any more and had to grab Marik in the next second, the rhubarb suddenly softened. "I'm... gonna make breakfast," Bakura spat out, breaking off eye contact. He stood up on the bed, his feet sinking into the soft fabrics. He wanted to step over Marik, wanted to touch him as little as possible, but then Marik grabbed his ankle. "What is it?" Bakura cleared his throat, looking down.

Marik looked up. Of course Bakura cared, he knew he did. Bakura was still in love with him, after so many years. He had done a lot of favors for him, smaller and bigger ones and Marik wanted to give him something back, to make his fire burn again. That had been the plan and Marik shouldn't chicken out and pretend that he had changed his mind. It would be a humiliation for Marik, but it was worth it because it was for Bakura.

Confused about Marik's silent stare, Bakura chuckled. "Heh, look, the curse is over. You didn't answer my question. I asked you what's up and you remained still, hm."

"Yeah, that's true," Marik said slowly. "I can lie again." He let go of Bakura's leg and grinned. "Hm, lets test it! Ask me something!"

"Mh. What color is the sky?" Bakura sighed, stepping off the bed.

"The sky is red with purple dots! Ha!" Marik's grin widened and he laughed. "I can lie again! Oh, isn't that great!"

"Awesome." Bakura was about to leave the room.

"Eh, wait! Kura!"

Bakura looked back. "What," he grumbled.

"Come here," Marik muttered.

The spirit turned around, standing before Marik. He crossed his arms and leaned his upper body a bit back.  
The adventure was over, the possibility to ask Marik suggestive questions was over and Bakura's good mood was over too. An ordinary morning with his obviously gay partner was up and he had to deal with him through the day, just as usual, just as always, forever and ever as it seemed and without any chance to get any closer to him. Plus, he didn't even know if he wanted Marik. At times his feelings were gone, he was distant, he felt nothing but cold darkness hugging him and whispering things about death and solitude into his ear...

"Bakura."

The spirit shook his thoughts off and took a deep breath, before looking at Marik. "Yes."

Marik glanced away, gulping, but focused his eyes quickly back onto the other. How cold Bakura's eyes were. It was almost impossible to imagine that those same eyes could look lovingly at Marik or that they fill up with fear or anger when Marik was in danger. Those firmly crossed arms could hold Marik tenderly as if they were afraid to hurt him. And that tightly shut mouth could call his name with the faintest sigh. A faint sigh full of longing.  
It was time now. Marik slipped to the edge of the bed, until his feet touched the floor. He noticed that Bakura took a small step back, but the Egyptian smiled, understanding that Bakura was once again just acting cold because he was hurt. "Ask me," Marik said.

Bakura blinked. "What..."

"Ask me that question."

"Which question?"

Marik raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. "You know which one."

Bakura stared at him, frowning. "You mean..."

Marik nodded a few times quickly. "Mhm, yes. Ask me." He leaned closer to the other.

Could it be...? Bakura took one step closer to Marik. No, it wasn't making any sense. The curse was over, Marik had just proved it, just a minute ago. Why would he want Bakura to ask him? Bakura was too lost in his confusion to be able to properly think about it, so he shook his head and opened his mouth. "Are you gay?" he asked, sounding surprised, not because of the obvious answer, but because Marik wanted him to ask, which meant that he would give him the long awaited honest answer. ...right? Bakura held his breath and stared on Marik's lips, eager for his reply.

Slightly, Marik moved his head to a nod, while locking eyes with Bakura. He moved his head up and nodded again, this time steadier. And again. His nodding exaggerated until he finally opened his mouth and said: "Yes." He breathed out, having held his breath as well. "I'm gay. I'm totally gay," he muttered, chuckling insecure. He waited for Bakura to respond, but the Brit just fixated his eyes on him, unmoving, face unchanged. He made Marik nervous. "Hey, say something," he whispered, afraid that he would whimper if he spoke too loud.

Then Bakura's eyes fell down to the ground and he smiled.  
It wasn't that smug grin he put on when he had won an argument with Marik and it wasn't the forced one he used when he wanted to cheer Marik up. No, Bakura smiled out of happiness.

He stood there for a while, looking down, while Marik was staring at him. Feelings build up in Marik, but he wasn't sure which ones.

Finally, Bakura moved. "Thank you," he said, looking up. He let his arms fall to his sides and walked over to Marik, sitting down slowly on the bed next to him. Their knees touched."I know it must be hard for you to say that, hm." Bakura felt content, even peacefully. Having Marik be honest to him meant a lot to him. Maybe everything. After all that fighting, Marik had finally understood. Marik cared. Making Bakura somewhat happy.

"Yeah," Marik murmured, not daring to look in Bakura's eyes. He felt embarrassed and he felt ridiculous for being embarrassed. Bakura had known it all along, it was okay, everything was okay. "It's okay, right?" Marik asked, actually talking to himself. He intertwined his fingers strongly, until it hurt.

"Yes, it is," Bakura answered, chuckling. "It's more than okay."

Marik looked up and saw Bakura's smirk. "Oh, don't you dare to tease me with that now!"

"Aww, but Marik, why would you think that?" Bakura tilted his head. "When have I _ever_ teased you...?"

The amount of faked surprise in Bakura's voice was very much exaggerated, telling Marik how much Bakura's mood had improved. The Egyptian couldn't help but laugh. "Oi, stop it, Fluffy!" he chortled, hitting Bakura's knee and leaving his hand there.

Bakura's grin broke for a second, when Marik touched his leg. "Mm. I'll never stop it," he mumbled, putting his hand on Marik's.

Again, their eyes met and couldn't unchain from each other. A strong force pulled their faces close, both suddenly knowing that it was time for a kiss. They gave each other a last look before their eyes closed, their heads tilted and their lips touched. Marik cupped Bakura's cheek with his free hand and Bakura grabbed Marik's arm. Marik groaned, being surprised of how good it felt to kiss another man, no, how good it felt to kiss Bakura.  
Bakura's moaning was softer, but his tongue was demanding. It received entrance in Marik's mouth, met Marik's tongue and began playing with it, trying to find out what Marik liked. Luckily, it was pretty easy to tell, as Marik liked to be loud. Bakura loved his moans and his gentle strokes. He loved Marik's smell and his warmth, he loved his sighs and his taste, he loved the boy so bloody much.  
Marik's hand trailed over Bakura's neck to his hair, needing something to hold onto. He wanted to move closer to the other, wanting to feel him, wanting to be as close as possible, but their bumping knees stopped him. So he stood up cautiously, not to break their kiss. Yet when he sat down on Bakura's legs, their lips parted and their eyes found each other.

"Hey, what are you doing," Bakura murmured, feeling Marik panting on his face. He wrapped his arms around Marik's body.

"I need to be close to you," Marik said, smiling. Bakura grinned. Marik played with Bakura's hair until he found more breath to speak. "You know, I... Uh." He hadn't found the words though.

Bakura waited a few seconds, watching Marik, then he asked. "What is it?"

"Don't tell anyone," Marik whispered.

Bakura chuckled. "Huh?"

"That I'm gay and... stuff." Having Bakura know it was one thing, telling it the rest of the world was another. His fears and worries hadn't vanished; being openly gay was still frightening to him. He knew that he could trust Bakura but other people could laugh at him or look at him in disgust and he couldn't bare it, not yet. He still needed time.

"Stuff?" Bakura laughed again. "You mean stuff like this?" He gave Marik a quick peck on the lips, then leaned back and grinned. Just yesterday he would have get a slap and a long speech by Marik why he would never ever let Bakura come near him, when he would just as much as touched Marik and now he had the boy sitting on his lap and was free to give him kisses and strokes. And he felt wonderful.

Marik nodded, not grinning back. "Yes, don't tell anyone anything." He stared into Bakura's eyes, not blinking.

"Okay, I won't," Bakura mumbled, noticing that Marik meant it. "Whom would I tell it anyway? I just have you, silly," he said low.

"Splendid," Marik said, parting his lips and showing his teeth in a widespread grin. "Now come," he laughed, leaving Bakura's lap as he spoke, "The last one in the kitchen is making breakfast!" And with that he vanished, before Bakura had realized it.

"Oh wait, you little!" Bakura yelled, rushing behind Marik. "That was unfair, you had a head start!"

"Pah, not my fault when you're so slow!" Marik was sitting on the floor behind the kitchen counter although it was useless to hide, because he couldn't control his laughter. He heard Bakura tumbling inside the kitchen and peeked over the counter.

Bakura spotted him and stepped slowly to Marik. "I'm not slow, you're just a cheater," he said, shaking his head as he looked down at Marik.

Marik got up and gave Bakura his best smirk. "Pff, what do you expect? I'm a villain!"

"Yes, you're my villain," Bakura whispered and caught Marik, pulling him into a strong embrace. Finally, he added in his mind.

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**AN: Thank you for the comments on the previous chapters. Please review if you liked this one as well. There'll be more chapters, but with different wishes :P See you next time.**


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